


Pound for Pound

by igiveup101



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Darker Than Disney, Disabled Character, Gang warfare, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Violence, people who are not doctors acting like doctors, pirate bonding, uhhh pretty dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-13 23:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11770239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/igiveup101/pseuds/igiveup101
Summary: When the Rotten Four had been sent back to the Isle, they'd known it wasn't going to be an easy readjustment.They hadn't expected a war.“Imagine that the world is made out of love. Now imagine that it isn’t. Imagine a story where everything goes wrong, where everyone has their back against the wall, where everyone is in pain and acting selfishly because if they don’t, they’ll die. Imagine a story, not of good against evil, but of need against need against need, where everyone is at cross-purposes and everyone is to blame.”― Richard Siken





	1. Reentry

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter only focuses on Mal, Evie, and Jay, but the next chapter is about Uma's crew, and Carlos shows up in the chapter after that. When I say every major character shows up, I REALLY mean it. I had to find every villain kid mentioned in the books to avoid OCs to fill this thing. Also, the opinions expressed by characters do NOT necessarily reflect my own.
> 
> This is essentially a war fic about a feud gone way too far, so. People are going to die, but honestly I don't think I have it in me to kill a major character so they're probably safe. For now. Also!! I desperately need a beta. If you're willing to help, hmu @ obifankenobi.tumblr.com

 

Three weeks.

For three weeks, they’d been stuck on this hell-hole again. Just like they’d never quite stopped expecting, their time on Auradon had come to an end and they’d been sent back to the Isle ( _I’m sorry, there- there’s nothing I can do)_. The place was as much of a dump as they remembered- more, actually. Maybe they’d gotten used to the pristine surroundings of Auradon; maybe there’d been a riot after the coronation. Whatever had happened, it was undeniably disgusting to be surrounded yet again by garbage on all sides.

One of the biggest reasons that they hadn’t wanted to come back was that a lot of people- a _lot_ of people- were very, very angry that Mal and her friends had turned their backs on them on live television- backs that now had huge, glaring targets on them. They’d found allies, of course. As they’d suspected, a lot of the other kids on the Isle had hopes for better things than lifelong villainy and failed attempts at world domination.

Mal had some of her territory back- most of the eastern side of the Isle. Uma still reigned in the west, but Mal wasn’t planning on letting that stand. There weren’t many border skirmishes; the feud between Mal and Uma was bad, but not bad enough that the very center of the Isle couldn’t remain a neutral zone. Neither side was interested in risking what they already had for some damn marketplace. It served its purpose perfectly well without belonging to either side.

But Uma hadn’t been the only thing keeping them in Auradon, Obviously, the Isle was considerably worse in practically every way imaginable. The food, when there was any, was awful and borderline inedible. There was no clean part of town, only filth. The island itself smelled, and the most reliable form of entertainment was fighting.

The biggest reason they had for staying away, though, was the simple fact that their parents- minus a lizard- lived there. It wasn’t hard to imagine that they were probably _very_ angry at their children for turning against them. For the first couple of days, the newly-returned Villain Kids had been relieved to find that none of the adults they were worried about had searched them out. Granted, they wouldn’t have been easy to find, but it seemed that no one had even tried.

Which is why it was such a surprise that Carlos decided to find his mother himself.

“Carlos, are you crazy? No, you’re not going.” Jay had been against the idea from the beginning- all of Carlos’s friends were, but Jay was the most insistent.

“Yes, I am. She’s my mom, Jay. I have to- I have to talk to her, if nothing else, okay? Just… just let me talk to her. We can work it out. We’re family.”

“She’s not your family, Carlos. We are.”

“That’s not what I- she’s my _mom._ Doesn’t that mean anything?”

“My mom’s a lizard in a box who tried to kill us, so no, I would say it doesn’t mean a whole lot,” Mal interjected.

Carlos took a deep breath. “Listen. I’m going, that’s not a debate. Maybe it’s stupid- it probably is- but I have to try. She’s family.”

“She’s a _psychopath,”_ Jay reminded him.

“Jay…” Evie put a hand on the taller boy’s shoulder to calm him.

Carlos just gave them a shaky, hopeful smile. “Even villains love their kids, right?”

That had shut them up, and Carlos had taken off a few moments later.

When he left, Evie stared after him. “What if he’s right?”

“What?” Mal looked at her like she was crazy.

“Maybe they do love us. They were just- they were trying to do the best they could in a bad situation.”

“Evie, your mom wouldn’t let you out of the house unless you’d spent hours perfecting your make-up,” Jay said.

Evie flinched a bit, and the others pretended not to notice. “I know. And that was wrong, I know, I get that now. I’m not going back to thinking beauty is all that matters, you don’t have to worry about that. It’s just… Carlos was right. She’s my mom. Besides, it’s not like she’s going to hit me. I think.”

“This is ridiculous. You’re not-”

“Jay, stop. Evie,” Mal said, planting herself directly in front of the other girl. “If you want to go see your mother, I won’t stop you. But you have to understand that she’s been a bad influence on you your entire life, and that isn’t going to stop now. She’s going to make you feel bad about yourself, and you’re not going to deserve it. Whatever happens, you just have to promise me that you’ll come back the same person you are now.”

Evie stared at her friend’s eyes; they were glowing ever so slightly. But she was determined. “I will. It’ll be fine. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“Hours?” Jay growled.

“Tops. I promise.”

And so Evie had gone. Like she’d promised, she returned in a matter of hours. She’d brought some of her old clothes, and some pillows and blankets. But she came back dejected, shoulders hanging low and eyes flat. She didn’t look anyone in the face, and when Mal tried to talk to her, Evie brushed her off. She skipped dinner that night, staying instead in the corner of the hideout that had been unofficially designated hers. Mal would have mentioned it, but there wasn’t enough food for all of the kids staying there anyway. Evie would eat the next day; Mal would make sure of that.

As upset as she was, though, Evie had come back. The same could not be said for Carlos. The next morning arrived, and he still hadn’t reappeared. By midday, Mal, Evie, and Jay had agreed that they should be worried. Jay volunteered to go get him (“I’m going to grab that skinny bastard by the hair and drag him back, and anyone who wants to stop me can go ahead and _try it._ ”)

He’d climbed the hill to the house and knocked, waiting at the door for ten minutes. Nobody answered. He kept knocking, but got no response. Eventually, he was forced to admit that he wasn’t going to get one. So he circled the house instead, trying to use his senses. None of the lights were on, and there Jay couldn’t see any movement in the windows. The only thing he could smell was the usual overpowering smell of cigarettes. What bothered him the most was the _silence._ Granted, he was outside, so he hadn’t been expecting to hear anything as quiet as breathing. But there was nothing- no voices, no footsteps. No whirring machinery, no crackling electricity. No broom sweeping, no water sloshing. Even the area around the house seemed eerily still. The entire place seemed like a dead zone.

When Jay returned to the hideout alone, Mal and Evie’s concern multiplied, but when they went up there, they found the same thing. There was no hint of life that they could find.

“Maybe Cruella moved,” Evie suggested.

“Where? Back to hell where she belongs?” Mal shot back.

Evie frowned at her. “Maybe she went to her spa, and maybe Carlos joined her. We don’t know something’s wrong.”

“But we don’t know that it isn’t, and that’s usually just as bad.”

The next two and a half weeks passed without a word from Carlos, but his friends were becoming increasingly busy with other matters.

As the fighting with Uma became more intense, more and more of the Isle residents took sides. Soon enough, there were two crews, each willing to fight to the death- life on the Isle had never meant much.

Still, Jay had stayed away from his father, and Mal… Mal shared a room with her mother. Who was a lizard.

Maleficent stayed in a cage brought over with her from Auradon, sitting on what could loosely be termed Mal’s desk in what could loosely be termed Mal’s office. As more kids joined them in the hideout, Mal was forced to take increasing amounts of responsibility for them, and had ended up with a space just for herself. She slept there, worked there, and planned there. But right now, she was just staring at her mother.

“Are you aware of what’s going on? Do you know where you are?”

The lizard flicked out its tongue at her. Mal decided to take that as a yes.

“Okay. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still mad at you. I didn’t forgive you or anything. I just- I think you could be helpful. Here. You always knew what to do, you always had a plan, and I’m… stuck.”

Maleficent tilted her head.

“I don’t know what they want from me. They say they’re here to help, that they want to fight Uma, that they want to be good. But I’m not sure I actually ever learned how to do that. I’m not trying to start a war- I just want my friends to be safe.”

Mal frowned when the lizard narrowed her eyes.

“Don’t do that. Yes, I have friends now. And they are. Friends. They’re not my minions, or even allies, they’re friends. And I know you don’t get that, but you don’t have to. They aren’t yours.”

Maleficent flicked her tongue out again, and Mal opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by a knock on the door. “Come in,” she called.

Evie stepped in carefully. “Is now a good time?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“I thought I heard you talking.”

Mal’s face reddened slightly. “Oh. You thought wrong. Anyway, what did you want?” It came out more harshly than she intended it to, but she didn’t have time to correct herself before Evie responded.

“We’re low on supplies.”

“What supplies? Be more specific.”

“All of them.”

Mal stared at her. “What- what do you mean all of them?”

“Well, not _all_ of them, but most. We’re low on food- we always are- and we’re low on everything else. Toilet paper, regular paper, bandages, Oxy- all of it. I lied when I said most, it really is all.”

Mal could feel a headache coming on, and she rubbed her temple with one hand as she answered. “Okay. Alright, that’s fine. The barges are coming in a few days, and we can restock then. Jay can run out tomorrow and get some more to tide us over until then. Is there anything else?"

Evie nodded. “We have a couple of kids who’ve gotten hurt fighting Uma’s crew.”

“I know.”

“I’m not a doctor, Mal.”

“I know. But you’re the closest thing we have. You know the most about chemistry and medicine and helping people. Who else do you think could do it? Jay?”

Evie cracked a smile. “Fine. But I need help. Can you tell Jay to look for some books about medicine or doctors or anything like that when you send him out tomorrow?”

“No problem. And I thought Dizzy was helping?”

“I don’t want her to. She’s too young, Mal.”

“She’s only a couple years younger than we are. I don’t know if you’re worried she can’t do it, or if you don’t think she should have to, but you’re going to have to get over it. There is no childhood on the Isle, and if she doesn’t know how to do it then you’re going to have to teach her. We aren’t in a position to refuse help, Evie.”

Evie looked away. “Fine.”

“Is that all?”

“No,” Evie said. Mal looked at her expectantly. After a moment, she continued. “I miss Auradon.”

Mal was silent for a minute, looking down at her desk. “We all do.”

Neither of them spoke. Eventually, Mal heard the door click shut and looked up. Evie was gone.

She gave herself a moment to slow down. It was fine. Everything was fine. Mal had grown up on the Isle; she’d lived here for 16 years. She had a good vacation in Auradon while it lasted, but she didn’t have time to sit around reminiscing about it. There were more important things to worry about.

Like magic. She’d been working on it for the three weeks they’d been back, trying to draw on the tiny amount that managed to survive the barrier. She hadn’t been able to do anything significant yet- not even close- but she was getting there. Maybe. Until she did, though, this was something she kept to herself.

“Magic, magic, from the land, light a fire in my hand,” she murmured. There were a few sparks on her fingertips, but they died down in a matter of seconds.

“I’ll get there,” Mal whispered to herself. “I’ll get there.”

\----

Evie had returned to the unofficial medical station- which is to say, the section of the hideout where kids came when they were scratched up and bleeding. Dizzy was sitting on a cot, waiting for her.

“Evie! I’ve been practicing my bandaging skills. See?”

Dizzy’s leg was bandaged up from the ankle to the knee. Evie gave her a weak smile. “Dizzy, was your leg hurt?”

“No,” Dizzy answered, unsure.

Evie took a deep breath. That was a huge waste of a supply they were already running low on. “Okay. That’s fine, we can reuse it, I think. I’m not sure, but- that’s fine.”

“Are you mad?”

She was about to be honest. She was about to look Dizzy directly in the face and say, ‘yes, I’m mad, because I’ve been sent back to Hell and Carlos is missing and I miss my friends and this place is disgusting and I’m tired and my mother’s a bitch and _you’ve wasted the bandages_.’ But then she saw Dizzy’s face.

Her eyebrows were drawn up, mouth wavering uncertainly. She looked scared, and embarrassed, and upset. Evie recognized that look; she’d seen it in the mirror a thousand times. So she lied. “No, Dizzy, I’m not mad.” She knelt down to look at the girl’s leg. “You did a good job. I want you to ask in the future when you want to practice something, because I can help you. But I’m not mad at you.”

Dizzy’s face cleared up, and she beamed. “Good! I’m sorry I used the bandages without asking. But do you really think I did a good job?”

Evie took a closer look at the bandages. “Yes, I do. It’s very neat, and I can see you worked hard on it. It could use a little work, but I’m very impressed with you.”

“Thanks,” Dizzy said quietly. “My mom never said things like that.”

 _Neither did mine._ “She didn’t know any better. But we do, so that’s alright. Now, can you check Deux’s leg for signs of infection?”

Dizzy diligently headed off to do just that. Evie hovered a bit behind, giving her space but checking to make sure Deux didn’t get gangrene.

\----

_Thump._

Jay swung fist after fist at the makeshift punching bag. It wasn’t as strong as it could have been, and he had to keep tying it back up every half hour, but it was there, and it was something. He’d been going at it for a while, and he could feel the sweat dripping down his back. He’d put his hair up in a bun to keep it out of the way, but the bun wasn’t going to hold up much longer.

_Thump._

Jay didn’t care.

_Thump thump._

If he ever got back to Auradon, he was going to kick someone’s ass.

_Thump._

Or maybe not, considering it would just get him sent back again. But it might still be worth it.

 _Thump_.

It had been three weeks. Three weeks since they’d gotten sent back and Carlos had disappeared.

_Thump thump._

The fighting with Uma was getting more intense. No one had died yet- not on their side, anyway- but they’d come close. Still, it was restricted mostly to minor skirmishes.

_Thump._

Mal was trying to keep everything together and maintain what she jokingly called the Anti-Hero Club.

_Thump._

Evie had taken over as doctor, apparently. She didn’t know much about medicine, but she was doing her best.

_Thump._

They were both in over their heads- way over- and trying not to show it.

_Thump thump._

And Jay? Jay was the thief again. If they needed supplies, he’d get them. He swiped everything he saw that looked valuable- the only difference from before was that now he wasn’t just doing it to save his own skin.

_Thump._

But he knew. He knew that was who he was, and that was what his friends saw. They’d all done their ‘growing’ and ‘personal development,’ and he was exactly the same. The most helpful thing he could be was a pair of hands.

_Thump thump thump._

_Thwack._

“Damn,” he said, staring at the punching bag on the floor where it had bounced off of the wall.

“Uh, Jay?”

Jay whirled around in surprise. It wasn’t like him to be caught off-guard; he was usually the one doing the catching.

Jace Badun was standing there, fidgeting awkwardly. Jay knew him, if not well. He’d seen him around the hideout recently, but mostly he knew him through Carlos. Jace was one of Cruella’s minion’s kid, along with his cousin Harry. They’d hung around Carlos some before Auradon, but it was less a matter of friendship and more a case of hereditary minionship. Still, Jace seemed like a good kid. “Yeah?”

“I was hoping you’d help me work out?” When Jay gave him a blank stare, the boy continued. “I just mean- you know, you’re so big, and tough, and you’re so good at fighting, and I figured you could give me some pointers?”

After a moment, Jay nodded. “Yeah, of course. Come on over, we’ll work on your arms.”

He led the younger boy- a little younger than Carlos, even, and Carlos was 2 years younger than Jay already- over to what passed for a weights station. It was loaded with the heaviest, most worthless stuff Jay could find, and a few of them even resembled actual weights. He looked over the pile of garbage, picking out some items that looked to be Jace’s weight range.

“Will these do?”

“Oh! Yeah, those are fine. Uh, thanks.”

Jay grabbed a pair of fake weights for himself, and both boys lifted in silence.

Until Jay broke it. “What do you know?” He asked, voice low.

Jace glanced at him, slowing down. “Honestly… not a lot. I haven’t seen him since he got back, no one has. I asked my dad a couple of times, but he won’t say anything.”

“So he could be okay?” Jay asked. It was unlikely- borderline impossible- but he couldn’t crush the sliver up hope crawling up his gut.

Jace looked away. “I don’t think so,” he said quietly. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen my dad look guilty about anything, and it’s only when I ask about him.”

“Oh,” Jay said, feeling the sliver of hope choke and die. After a moment, he kept at it. “I’ve been there every single day, and no one’s ever home.”

“I don’t know if that’s true,” Jace shrugged. “My dad says Cruella’s been quiet lately. Scary quiet. Says he liked it better when she yelled.”

One of Jay’s weights fell to the ground, and he forgot for a moment to pick it up. Jace grabbed it and handed it to him, not meeting his eyes. Both of them continued in silence.

\----

It wasn’t often that Mal called a conference. For starters, there were usually only a few people in the compound at any given time- though the number had been getting steadily bigger. There also wasn’t usually anything important enough to call a conference _for._

So when she called one, people came. They gathered around her desk, where she stood with her hands planted firmly on the wood. Evie showed up first, face pinched, followed by a giddy Dizzy. Others came- even Deux hobbled over so he wouldn’t miss the news. Jay was the last to arrive, trailing some kid Mal vaguely recognized. He was glowering, so Mal knew he wasn’t going to have the best reaction to her announcement.

When Mal determined that everyone important was there- minus a certain freckled face- she began to speak. “I sent a message to Uma asking her to consider a… peace, of sorts.”

As she’d expected, the room exploded in noise.

“A _what?”_

“Without consulting anyone?”

“Who delivered the message?”

The last one was the most common question. Obviously, the Isle didn’t have snail mail or the internet, so personal delivery was just about the only way to get a letter to anyone. Everyone was looking around the room accusatorily, trying to figure out who had kept this secret from the rest of the crew.

Everyone, that is, except for Evie and Jay. Those two looked directly at her, sending her a clear message. _You may be our leader, but this is not a dictatorship._

A challenge. If things with Uma were going to calm down, Mal was going to have to be able to control her side of the equation, and she had to be authoritative. She let her eyes glow slightly, feeling the room quiet around her as she did. When she saw her friends’ face pull tighter, she knew it had been the wrong move.

But she didn’t have time for that now.

Clearing her throat, she continued. “I sent a neutral party from the marketplace. He’s not on our side, and he’s not on Uma’s, and he’d like to keep it that way. All he had to do was deliver our letter, and bring back her response. He has done so.:

Everyone looked at her expectantly, although Jay and Evie still seemed peeved. “She has agreed to send two messengers to exchange… demands, for lack of a better word. We have to determine what we think is most important for peace, and they have to do the same. The messengers will meet and exchange papers tomorrow morning on the wharf.”

“Who are they sending?” A girl near the front.

“We can’t be sure, but we know it won’t be Uma herself. She’ll send one of her lackeys to do it. I’m willing to bet it’s a Hook though, probably either Harry or Harriet. She trusts them, and they can stand their own in a fight.”

“Who are we sending?” The same girl.

“Well, it’s not going to be Mal,” Evie responded immediately. Heads turned to look at her.

“Don’t say that,” Mal said. “I’m willing to go.”

“I don’t care if you’re willing, you can’t. I think we’ve established that you’re in charge, and we’re not sending you out on your own. We don’t know that the other side will fight fair.”

“I can take any risk I ask any of you to take. My life is not more important than yours, and I won’t pretend it is.”

Evie narrowed her eyes. “That’s nice, but we both know it’s not true. If something happens to you, this entire side falls apart. Maybe someone else will step up. But,” she turned, gesturing to everyone else in the room, “can all of you promise you’d have as much faith in that person as you do in Mal?” She was met with silence, and turned back to Mal. “You’re not going.”

Mal could feel her face reddening, and hoped it wasn’t noticeable. “Fine,” she said, trying to keep her temper in check. “But you can’t go either. If things go downhill, we’re going to need a medic.”

“I’m not a doctor!”

“But you’re the next best thing, so we’re all going to have to deal with that. You’re not going right into the line of fire.”

“I’ll go,” a boy interrupted. Mal turned to look at him, and recognized him. Sammy Smee had grown up with the Hook siblings… for the first 11 of his 12 years of life.

Mal sighed. “I’m not sending a child.”

“We’re all children, if that word even applies here,” he shot back. “I’ve known the Hooks my whole life.”

“And then you turned on them and joined us instead.”

Sammy’s face turned crimson. “I am _not_ my father, and I will _not_ be a Hook’s lapdog!”

“Aye!” Cried Deux from the back. Like Sammy, he'd separated from his father LeFou and turned against Gaston's kids.

“I know. I’m not saying you were wrong, because you weren’t. I’m saying that they’re not going to take kindly to seeing you again, _representing the other side,_ ” Mal tried to explain.

Sammy looked up at her beseechingly. “They practically helped raise me. That’s got to count for something, doesn’t it?”

( _“Even villains love their kids, right?”_ )

And just like that, the discussion was closed. Jay made Mal’s point for her, pushing his way to the front of the crowd and grabbing the boy by the collar of his shirt. “You. Are. Not. Going.” Terrified, Sammy nodded. Jay set him back down and ruffled his hair, trying to defuse the tension. “Great. You can work out with me tomorrow instead.” Sammy nodded again.

“Great, glad that’s settled,” Evie said sarcastically, bringing them back to the matter at hand. “Who’s actually going? Jay can’t go, because he has to go on a supply run tomorrow, and apparently neither of us is going.”

“I’ll do it. And don’t say I’m too young, because I’m not. I’m only two and a half years younger than you, and I don’t have any sort of connection to anyone on Uma’s crew. No one has a vendetta against me, and I don’t have anything against them, either. I can stay neutral and deliver the letter, no problem.”

Everyone had turned to look at the boy who’d spoken.

Jay sighed. “Jace-”

“Please. Let me be useful, I’m tired of staying around cooped up in here waiting for Carlos to come back.”

Jay reeled back like he’d been slapped, and Evie had much the same reaction. Mal was barely able to keep from flinching herself.

“Fine,” Jay said, voice lower than before. “But you’d better come back in one piece.”

\----

It took another hour and a half to work out what the demands should be, even with Mal’s pre-written suggestions. When the conference finally adjourned, most of the villain kids headed off to either their respective houses or their makeshift beds on the floor of the hideout.

Mal was left alone in her office to contemplate the decision. Had she been wrong to send the message out without telling anyone? They might have tried to stop her, and this was the best course of action. Things were getting more and more drastic every day. Deux had had one of his legs damn near sliced off by one of the Gastons the other day, and Mal was willing to bet that it was just a matter of time before someone died. She could assume no one had died on the other side because Uma would have been out for blood.

But she hadn’t been expecting to send a kid. Not one as young as Jace, anyway. Then again, this wasn’t Auradon, and it wasn’t likely to be the kid’s first life and death situation.

 _Snap out of it,_ she reprimanded herself. Auradon really had made her soft if the idea of a 13-14 year old involved in a turf war made her feel anything other than bored. Besides, Uma’s letter had seemed relatively sincere- not sweet, by any means, but cordial enough and open to negotiations.

She had other things to worry about. She looked over the list of demands for what seemed like the hundredth time, in case anything was missing or would make negotiations impossible. Again, she found nothing. Taking a deep breath and forcing herself to stop overthinking it, she set the sheet down and made herself practice her magic again.

Just like earlier, sparks came alive on her fingers before quickly sputtering out, but they were distinctly brighter this time. She really was getting better.

Good. She was getting the feeling that would be important soon.

\----

Since the hideout had essentially become a new living space for kids wanting to escape villainy, Evie had taken the unofficial position of den mother alongside the unofficially official doctor position.

It really wasn’t her responsibility, but she wanted to give these kids something she and her friends had never had. Something she’d been taught at Auradon. So every night, when most of the kids were settling into their makeshift beds, she went and ‘tucked them in.’ Kids had been resistant at first, of course, but the younger ones liked it. Gradually, some of the older ones started letting her do it, too. And when she sat in the middle of the unofficial sleeping hall and told a story- something small, and stupid, because Evie had never been a storyteller- no one complained.

She could tell it was working. A lot of the kids, especially the younger ones, had really started perking up. It was like they’d been forced to grow up when they were still knee-height, and they were taking the opportunity now to be a kid that they hadn’t had before. It was good for them. She thought.

But she was worried, too. Getting a childhood was great… if you could afford it. But Evie wasn’t sure anyone on the Isle could. Already most of the younger kids were acting their age- younger, even; Dizzy had never seemed as young as she had these past two weeks- and Evie was terrified that it would end up getting them killed. She wanted to protect them, but the single most important tool for survival on the Isle was self-reliance.

And yet. She couldn’t bring herself to stop now that some of the kids seemed so eager for it every night come bedtime, couldn’t help wanting to give them this little glimpse of family. So she told herself that a few stories never killed anyone, and she prayed to whoever was listening that it was true.

\----

No one used the work-out room at night, so Jay had it all to himself. That was a good thing, because someone else might have tried to stop him from beating the shit out of the punching bag. His knuckles had started bleeding a couple minutes back, and he’d hardly noticed. It was the least of his worries.

Carlos was still missing, and even his sort-of minions were giving up on him. He hadn’t been seen in three weeks. He was ammunition now- a fast way to end an argument, and _damn,_ Jay shouldn’t have given up so fast. It was ridiculous. It was pathetic. It was _terrifying._

Mal was going off on a power trip. Making unilateral decisions without consulting anyone. Pulling her eyes on them? She hadn’t done that in years. What made her think she could make these decisions for them without asking, and then _condescend to them_ when they called her out?

Evie hadn’t had a spare moment in days. She kept piling on responsibilities like she thought she had 48 hours a day. Doctor, chief of inventory, team therapist, and most recently hive mom. She looked like she barely slept; she was too busy trying to take care of everything and everyone else.

Jace was heading off on some hare-brained mission tomorrow on Mal’s word alone. Jay didn’t believe for a second that Uma was willing to commit to any sort of peace talks, and Jace wouldn’t stand a chance against any of the Hooks. Jay barely knew the kid, but he knew that 14 was too young to risk your life.

Then again, that was Auradon thinking. Jay had known people who died much younger; he hadn’t expected to make it that long himself when he was younger. There was no such thing as ‘too young,’ at least not here. But he still couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt.

And as for Jay himself, well- he didn’t seem to be doing much of anything nowadays. He went out on supply runs a couple of times- his best skill was thievery, after all- and beat up some of Uma’s goons, but that was about it, unless one counted his routine demolition of the punching bag. No one seemed to have time or need for him, but the worst part was that he could _feel_ what Mal and Evie thought when they saw him. He knew that they blamed him for getting sent back, and they didn’t have the guts to say it out loud.

A loud crack disrupted his train of thought and he jolted back to reality. He was kneeling over the punching bag on the floor where it’d fallen, one arm still pulled back for a hit. It reminded him of the familiar feeling of bashing someone’s face in, and it felt _good._ He rolled over off the bag and landed on his back on the floor. He didn’t feel like getting up and heading back to his usual spot. He’d just sleep here instead.

\----

“All you have to do is go to Goblin Wharf, trade papers with whoever meets you there, and come back, okay? It shouldn’t be difficult, and it shouldn’t be dangerous. If you feel something off-key, get out. It shouldn’t take more than a minute or two.”

Jace rolled his eyes at her. “I know, Mal. It’s not hard to remember, it’s not really a complicated scheme. I’ll be fine.”

“Fine. Get going, then. It’s better to get there early and have time to scope out your surroundings.”

He nodded and took off, leaving the door open behind him. A second later, a familiar blue head popped in.

“Come in, Evie.”

“Thanks.” Evie let herself in and leaned against a wall, sizing Mal up. “Don’t pull anything like that again.”

She meant the secret letter to Uma, of course. “You’re one to talk, Miss You’re-Not-Going.”

Evie narrowed her eyes. “I stated the obvious. You made a unilateral decision affecting all of us without bothering to tell anybody."

“I told you.”

“After she’d already replied. You and I both know that’s bullshit.”

Mal’s first instinct was to tell her to watch her mouth, but she quashed it. They weren’t 15 anymore; she couldn’t coast by on her mother’s reputation and cow everyone around her into submission. That wasn’t who she was now- or at least, it wasn’t supposed to be. So she reigned in her temper. “Do you have anything more productive to tell me, princess?”

Evie bristled. “Jay’s out on the supply run already. He should be back before long.”

“If that’s all…”

Evie scowled and left, shutting the door behind her. Mal waited a second to make sure she was gone and let her head fall into her hands. She was really mucking this up, and she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Her pride kept getting in the way. Still, the turf war with Uma would be over soon- or if not over, quieter- and they could go back to normal. It would be hard letting go of Auradon, sure, but not impossible. Everything would calm down and they’d find Carlos and all of them could just… be friends again. She just had to wait a little longer.

\----

Being invisible was a thief’s best tool, so Jay had become very, very good at it. Most people never knew he’d been there until he was long gone and they realized their wallets were gone. It wasn’t the only way he knew how to steal, but it was by far the most efficient- no one let their guard down around him otherwise, given his reputation.

He’d changed into a different outfit and pinned up his hair; he looked indiscreet enough that no one would give him a second glance. He stepped quietly in uncrowded alleyways, hardly being seen. In more public places, he simply became part of the natural jostle of the crowd. No one noticed a thing as Jay stripped them of their most prized possessions. They should have known better than to wear them out in public, anyway.

But the good stuff didn’t come from pickpocketing. A lot of it he stole from stores- quick in-and-out jobs before the owner even saw him. It was a good way to get things he couldn’t otherwise; what few medical supplies he managed to scrounge up he got like that. It was good for larger items, as well.

Of course, he’d taken too many things for any one person to carry. He had a rusted wheelbarrow hidden behind a pile of garbage- blending in well enough, considering it was barely in one piece- where he deposited things every time his pockets got too full. When he was done, he’d wheel it back to the compound. If someone tried to take it from him, well. Jay was hardly lacking in self-defense skills (or weapons).  

But he had one more stop to make before he could head back. It was still school hours, so Dragon Hall wasn’t empty, but it wasn’t as if anyone was paying attention there anyway. It was staffed (almost) exclusively by villains, so what else could be expected? He just needed access to its library for those medical books Evie had asked for.

As Jay made his way through the halls, he noted how empty the classrooms were. There were still students, but only half the number there used to be. Some kids were no longer interested in learning to be evil, he supposed, and others had just realized that they had better things to do. Some of them were in the compound he was stealing for.

When he finally got to the library, the most difficult part was finding the right section. There was no one on staff, which made books easier to steal, but infinitely harder to find. Jay just wandered through the aisles until he found some books about fixing people.

He grabbed the books that looked the most informational- textbooks, mostly- and paused when he noticed the books on the next shelf over.

They were still about fixing people, but they were more about _feelings_. Fixing the brain. Jay debated whether or not to get them. On the one hand, they didn’t have therapists on the Isle, and no one had ever really asked for any. Showing that kind of vulnerability was like asking to be taken advantage of. On the other hand, plenty of the kids on the Isle were fucked up, especially compared to anyone in Auradon. It was damn near impossible to make it through the night without some kid or another having a nightmare, and that made them a lot less effective.

But there wasn’t anyone who had the time or energy to fix all those kids’ brains. Oh, but wait! Some of these books were labelled ‘self-help.’ That would be perfect; the kids could fix themselves instead of making others do it for them.

Piling on as many books as he could carry, he slipped out the back door (everything had a back door on the Isle- one of the few upsides) and made his way back to his wheelbarrow. There was another kid milling around, trying to eye it discreetly. He jumped when he saw Jay and, recognizing the clear physical imbalance, scurried off.

Jay dumped all of the books into the wheelbarrow and starting pushing it back to the compound. It had been a couple of hours since he left, so Jace was bound to be back by now. If things really did cool down with Uma, they would finally have more time to spend looking for Carlos. It hadn’t been cool of Mal to jump the gun without asking, but the general idea had actually been a good one, if he thought about it.

By the time he made it back to the place he was tentatively starting to call home, he was almost vibrating. He wanted so badly to know how things had gone with Uma. Were things finally going to go back to normal? Did Jace see anything that might be useful in negotiations? What did Mal make of things?

Speak of the Devil. Mal was standing outside the main entrance of the compound, face grave. Jay’s stomach dropped. Nothing good ever came with that expression. He approached her slowly, hoping that he was just misreading her. Of course, he wasn’t.

When he got close enough, she grabbed his arm. “Jace didn’t come back,” she said.

He froze. “What?”

“He didn’t come back. At all.”

“It’s been hours.”

“I know.” Her voice was low. “Everyone does. There’s about to be a real problem. People are getting uneasy, Jay, and that never ends well. If we don’t find him, someone else is going to go looking.”

As always, crisis focused his mind more than anything else could. “I can go. No one has to know I was back in the first place, so I’ll just come back and say he was helping me out.”

“If you find him in one piece.”

“Mal-”

“Mal!” An unexpected voice cut off their conversation entirely. They both turned to look and saw Carlos’s cousin Diego running towards them, eyes wild. “Mal, I- we found Jace.” The boy was breathing heavily, much paler than usual.

But the first thing Jay noticed was the blood on his hands.


	2. Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uma's crew ponders the offer of peace and deals with their own problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter is going to mostly focus on Uma, Harry, Gil, and Harriet Hook- Harry's sister from the book. 
> 
> Again, I don't want to villainize either side here, and I'm sorry if it comes across that way. Neither side likes the other, so they're going to see each other really negatively in their chapters, but I personally hold no ill will for either side (I love them both).
> 
> Also, as a side note, there are no OCs in this story. Every single named character is from the books, movies, or Wicked World series.

The line between friend and enemy really wasn’t that thin- but Mal had traipsed over it with ease, and Uma had never quite understood how.

For years, Uma had run as part of Mal’s crew. She was there before the de Vil brat, and she’d brought in Harry and Gil. She and Mal had been almost inseparable- the power couple of the villain kids.  _ No one _ dared to mess with them; no one was stupid enough. Essentially the entire Isle was their territory (to the extent that it wasn’t their parents’). They ruled Dragon Hall and Serpent Prep, and every other kid either minded their own business, like Harriet Hook, or submitted to their rule. 

Uma and Mal had been by far the most powerful of the crew. Everyone else had their talents, sure, but no one questioned their leadership. Carlos, Evie, and Jay were always more loyal to Mal, and Harry and Gil to Uma, but it was never a problem, because they ruled together.

The lines weren’t clean-cut, either. Harry and Jay were like brothers, alternately watching and tackling each other’s backs. Gil and Evie had been the gentle ones, always fretting over the others. They weren’t just allies, they were pack. They were  _ crew. _

Until they weren’t. The change happened seemingly overnight. Mal broke up with Uma without a second thought, and immediately exiled her from the group. Suddenly she was too small, too weak, too ‘ _ shrimpy, _ ’ and that was it. Harry and Gil followed her out- and she knew it wasn’t an easy decision for them, they both looked back, but they were  _ hers- _ and, just like that, the crew was no more. 

Mal at least had the decency to stick to her own side of the Isle, for the most part, so Uma didn’t have to see Mal look past her entirely. The split didn’t go unnoticed, of course. Plenty of kids had the nerve to ask about it, and ended up with bloody noses. The ones who tried to use the opportunity to fill a perceived power vacuum were much worse off. 

And since then, they’d been enemies. The switch had damn near given Uma whiplash, but Mal never seemed to regret it. She never gave any sort of explanation; it just was. 

So Uma adapted. She learned better than to give someone else that kind of power over her, and she established a reputation- and a reign- of her own. It hadn’t been especially hard; Uma was more than capable of delivering a beatdown, and enough people were blindly terrified of Harry that they never tried anything. 

Harry. He was the closest thing Uma had to a friend, and she was the closest thing he had to a god. (In quiet moments they admitted they were more than that). He would have followed her to the ends of the Earth- or the Isle, as the barrier allowed- and she didn’t expect any less. He knew her better than anyone else, and vice versa, but. She made sure to  _ never _ give him power over her. 

Gil rounded out the trio, but he was always the odd one out. Less brutal, less calculating, less… evil _. _ Not as strong as his siblings, but not the sharpest tool in the shed either. The thing that singled him out was how  _ gentle _ he was. Left on his own, he probably would have died, but he’d been brought into the fold early. It wasn’t as if he didn’t contribute to the group, of course; he could make almost anything taste edible, and had a knack for finding the best supplies. And besides, they had a soft spot for him, even if they would never admit it.

So it was those three more or less ruling the kids of their side of the Isle for a while, and things settled into what could loosely be called a routine. Of course, Mal refused to let that stand, and she and her crew went off to Auradon.

Now  _ that _ was a surprise. Uma had been raised on stories of storming Auradon, of getting revenge. She’d been told that she would inherit a kingdom, but she’d stopped believing that she’d ever leave the Isle a long time ago. She certainly never thought that any of them would be  _ invited. _ That was a golden opportunity for the vengeance they’d been waiting for since birth, the vengeance they  _ deserved. _

The people of Auradon had stolen everything their parents had owned or worked for and shipped them off to some godforsaken island where they didn’t have to be dealt with. Even their magic had been stolen from them. Anyone who had ever done wrong by any of the ‘heroes’ was imprisoned for life, and their kids were condemned with them. No one in Uma’s crew knew what fresh food tasted like. They’d been raised- had raised themselves- in a dump. Vengeance was very much in order.

And Uma’s sources confirmed that there was a plan in place that would free everyone on the Isle. For the first time, there seemed to be more options for the future ruling a garbage pile.

So Mal shat all over that, too. She and her little group very publicly chose ‘good.’ Chose everything they’d been raised to hate. Chose hypocrisy, and betrayal, and abandoning everyone they’d ever known. Uma knew a  _ lot _ of kids who’d suffered badly for that choice as parents lost what little faith they’d had in their children. 

And, as the months passed, it became increasingly clear that everyone remaining on the Isle had been forgotten. No one else seemed to be coming for them, and whether that was a blessing or curse was unclear, but it seemed more and more the latter. 

Jay seemed to be building a new reputation for himself playing some game, and Evie was making new outfits for princes and princesses. At least de Vil was keeping to himself and staying under the radar.

But Mal. Mal, as always, took the cake. She managed to keep the crown prince for herself. Uma assumed it was a love potion, but as more time passed and nothing changed, that seemed more and more unlikely. Somehow, she’d even begun to charm the entire rest of Auradon and fool them into thinking she was a good person- what a joke. She was on the Auradon News Network all the time, having dinner with some royal or another, with the fakest smile Uma had ever seen plastered on her face; it had been a long time since they were friends, but not nearly long enough that Uma couldn’t read that girl like an open book.

Uma did the only reasonable thing- she plotted her revenge, she built up her own power. Mal wanted Auradon? Fine, she could have it. But the Isle was  _ Uma’s _ now. She already had half of it under her thumb; it wasn’t hard to find people willing to graduate from subject to crewmember; it certainly came with enough perks. 

She pretty much stopped working in her mother’s restaurant at that point, and expected Ursula to track her down and drag her by her ears back to the shop. So she waited. And waited. And waited. And then forgot about it, because it didn’t seem to be happening. She was too busy conquering the Isle to worry about nonexistent threats.

Her magnum opus, the moment where it really all came together, was when she took over Harriet’s crew. It wasn’t easy, by any means, but it wasn’t as hard as she’d expected, either. It seemed that the crew wasn’t used to real battle; it only took a couple of days for them to cede defeat. Harry had reveled in that, particularly coming at the tail end of a down episode, and Uma had forbidden him from speaking aloud as she officially crowned herself the captain of Harriet’s old crew.

Harriet had been furious, of course, but there was nothing she could do. Uma had enough power to hold Harriet’s life in her hands, and Harry  _ loved _ to make sure his sister knew that. He’d never been on good terms with his family- who was?- and relished the opportunity to prove himself the superior child. 

It was only improved when the youngest Hook, CJ, came knocking at Uma’s door. Apparently her old ally, Freddie Facilier, was heading down an unfortunate path and seemed dangerously good to choosing ‘good.’ It was a surprise coming from the daughter of Dragon Hall’s headmaster, but since Maleficent herself had been taken down by her own child, it seemed no one was safe.

CJ was put under Harriet’s care, and Uma kept enough eyes on them to ensure there was no opportunity for mutiny. They proved themselves to be capable fighters, and were useful in Uma’s takeover of the other half of the Isle. The eastern half was never as obedient as the west, with never-ending rumors of kids choosing ‘good.’ What were they teaching these kids in Dragon Hall that so many of them lost their way?

Regardless, Uma didn’t really care about the loyalty there. She wanted it as a statement more than anything else, and there was no one there with enough power to challenge her. Harriet had restricted access, and anyone else stupid enough to try to build a crew found themselves on the wrong end of the plank until they surrendered it. 

So Uma was the uncontested queen of the Isle- evil knows the adults hadn’t done anything in years- for months. Then things finally got interesting with a knock on her door.

Hand on her sword, she answered, “Come in.”

Gil popped in, practically vibrating with energy. “Uma! You are never going to believe what’s happening. It’s so exciting! I’m so-”

“Cut to the chase, Gil.”

“Right, sorry, sorry. They got sent back!”

“Who is?” Uma could only think of one answer but it didn’t sound right to her at all. She hadn’t been expecting things to be this easy.

“Mal and Carlos and Evie and Jay. There was a murder, apparently, someone died, and they got sent back to the Isle!”

She stared at him. “All of them?”

He nodded furiously.

She stood up. “When are they coming?”

“They’re already here.”

\----

Things happened pretty quickly after that.

The eastern half of the Isle largely broke away from Uma’s grasp and rallied behind Mal. Kids from the west came flocking to her door, begging for the privilege to help knock Mal and her friends down a peg.

It wasn’t neatly divided, of course. Some of Uma’s best new recruits came from the east and had gone to Dragon Hall. They were accepted on the condition that they move onto the ship- Uma wasn’t going to risk any potentially sensitive information getting back to the other side.

When a skinny, brown-skinned nerd named Reza showed up asking to join her, Uma nearly slammed the door in his face laughing- until he began to speak.

“Although superficially I may appear impuissant and disadvantageous, I assure you that in actuality I am quite commodious and astute, and therefore I likewise assure you, given that you acquiesce to my supplication, your forecast is propitious.”

She recognized him now. Carlos had mentioned him sometimes back when they still ran together, and she’d heard talk of him around the streets since then. He was smart, apparently. Annoying as hell, but the quickest mind on the Isle- with the unfortunate exception of de Vil himself. 

She sized him up. She’d have to keep him on the ship- not only did she not trust an east kid, but he’d get his ass kicked by any baby who tried- but Harry could teach him the basics of not getting killed in a fight. 

“How have you not been killed already?”

The boy paled a little, but stood his ground. A good sign, at least. “I have an accord with the puerile Gastons. I percolate their homework, and they act as a vigorous bulwark against those who would persecute me.”

That indicated he had some knack for survival, at least, and all three Gaston kids were on her crew already, so it wouldn’t be such a leap to let this kid in. “You’re welcome to join me,” she said, putting up a finger to stop him from getting too excited, “with two conditions.” He nodded and she continued. “You have to live on the ship- for your good and our own. The second condition is- and listen closely- that you have to cut the fancy word bullshit.”

“I don’t cognize that which you indicate,” hesitated Reza.

“I’m not going to hire a fucking interpreter to talk to you.” Uma saw Harry approaching quietly, and nodded almost imperceptibly that he should continue. “This thesaurus act is getting real annoying, real quick.”

“I am acquainted with my sesquipedalian loquaciousness, and that it may distemper some, but I do not believe that my grandiloquence is particularly egregious. Minor transmogrifications to my speech could be in order, mayhaps, but ultimately irregardless I am no ultracrepidarian, and-” Reza cut himself off abruptly at the feeling of cold metal on his throat.

Harry leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I think the lass asked you to cut the crap,  _ boy. _ ”

“Y-Yes. Sorry. I’ll endeavour- try, uh, I’ll try to keep it down, I, uh- I promise. Can- Can I go now?” The boy squeaked.

Uma smiled at him. “So long as you stay on the ship.”

Reza nodded silently and then scurried off. After a moment, Harry allowed himself to crack a grin. “Now, what do you think had him so worried?”

Their other eastern transplant wasn’t much less pretentious.

“You already know who I am, I assume.”

Uma’s unimpressed look made it clear that she didn’t.

“Tremaine, Anthony, of the stepfamily. Before you say anything, I  _ know _ that my cousin has chosen… a questionable path, and that she keeps unpleasant company. Let that not reflect poorly on me; I’m as disgusted by this ‘goodness’ kick they’re on as much as anybody else. I’ve come to offer my services in what seems to be spiraling into a turf war.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And why should I care?”

“Being from nobility comes with perks,” Anthony smiled. “For example, unlike most of the scrabble here- not including present company, of course- I have actual talent and potential. I’ve been afforded the mind and spare time to study something you should appreciate- medicine.”

That would certainly come in handy. Kids were coming in with cuts and bruises, but Uma knew what Mal was really capable of, and she expected worse to start coming any minute now.

And that was that. Anthony Tremaine joined Uma’s crew on a probationary period, with the understanding that he would stay on the ship and away from fighting (“I’m far too distinguished and valuable, of course”). He’d proven himself a useful asset, especially with the fighting escalating like it was- or, perhaps, had been.

Uma now found herself staring at a letter in her hands from none other than Mal herself. 

Harry had dragged some merchant with shaking legs into her office. “Wretch says he has something for you. I’ve looked it over; nothing but a letter. From Mal, looks like. Should I hook ‘im?”

She shook her head, reading over the letter. Mal was calling for a peace- now that was funny. Uma’s first instinct was to tell the merchant to tell her to fuck herself, but she knew it wasn’t up to her alone.

Gathering her crew on the upper deck, she read the letter out to them. The reaction was immediate, but a look from her quieted them long enough for her to finish it. As soon as she was done, all hell broke loose.

As she waited for her crew to settle down, Uma took in their reactions. Gil looked hopeful; he supported the idea. Reza looked angry, so it was a safe bet that he didn’t. Neither did CJ, by the looks of it. Anthony didn’t seem to care either way.

Harriet was, as always, impossible to read. She said nothing, and she seemed to be weighing her options. Uma hoped she weighed them well; she was still a strong influence on her old crew, and most of them would vote with her.

Her brother’s reaction was equally hard to gauge, but for different reasons entirely. Harry was in the middle of an up episode, so everything with him was heightened all the time. His hand was spasming open and closed, and he didn’t seem to notice his hook scratching a hole into his pants. His face was a bright red. Ordinarily, Uma would have assumed that he opposed the idea, but he had a tendency to surprise her when he was like this, so he could also be thinking the exact opposite. Or maybe he wasn’t paying attention and the noise of the crowd was just revving him up too much; it was impossible to tell.

When the noise level was low enough that Uma was confident her crew could hear her, she spoke. “Are you ready to have an actual discussion now, or do I have to stand here longer while you squabble like children?” Those who had still been speaking stopped now. “Thank you. Obviously, this could be a big deal. Most of us are here because we wanted to get our own back against Mal and her gang-”

“Or because you kicked our asses,” a voice called out. A low chuckled passed throughout the crowd, and Uma grinned.

“Or because I kicked your ass. Either way, I think I speak for all of us when I say that I’d like nothing more than to crush Mal. But I also know that fighting has been getting more intense, and that’s probably going to continue to be true. I’m not going to lie and say that no one might eventually get killed. I don’t want anyone fighting who isn’t prepared for that, and if enough of you tell me that you really want to patch things up with Mal, I’ll make it work. I won’t like it, but I’ll keep my beef between me and her, and the fighting will end. It’s up to you.” 

A moment of hesitation. “We should take the offer,” Gil said uncertainly. “We don’t gain anything from fighting to the death.”

“We don’t gain anything by surrendering, either!” CJ retorted. “We gain things by  _ conquering _ them. We’re pirates, not cowards!"

There were hearty noises of agreement. “I came here to destroy them, not sign a fucking peace treaty.” Reza’s vocabulary certainly had changed since his arrival on board.

“There are more ways to get revenge than war,” an uninterested voice said. At first, Uma was unsure whether or not it was actually Anthony, as he studied his nails looking incredibly bored, but he began to speak again. “I’d argue this isn’t particularly effective, actually. At what point have  _ any _ of us actually gotten to Mal? All I’ve heard of is petty squabbles with her lackeys- and not even the ones who went to Auradon.”

“I fought Jay,” protested another crewmember.

Anthony rolled his eyes. “And lost, by the looks of it. We haven’t accomplished anything. We need to lay this childish fighting to the side and think more long-term. We already have power on the Isle; what we need is a public relations campaign. Mal’s greatest strength is that people follow her. In a matter of months, she’s convinced countless of kids- villain kids by birthright, born and raised- that they really want to be ‘good.’ If we remind those kids who they really are, and who they’re meant to be, we take that away from her. Isolate her, and she loses her power. That’s how we get her.”

Harry, who had seemingly regained some measure of control over himself, finally spoke. “I’m the kind of person who listens to my gut, and my gut is telling me to  _ fucking disembowel them. _ If we stormed their hideout, we’d absolutely take them down. They’re weak, and it wouldn’t take long. It would be faster than it was taking Harriet’s crew-” he ignored a growl sent his way by a former member of said crew, “especially now that we have them on our side.”

There was silence for a moment, and then, to everyone’s surprise, Harry continued speaking. “But it wouldn’t be a clean victory. People would die on both sides, and we have survived  _ too much _ to be taken down by some goody-two-shoes having an identity crisis. We survived our parents, we survived the Isle, and we survived each other. But there are too many of them to assume that we’d get out unscathed. Now, I’m not afraid of dying, so long as it’s in battle. But I  _ don’t _ like to recklessly endanger my crew to satisfy my own bloodlust.”

Uma let him get away with calling it his crew, because it was both of theirs, and there was no doubt in her mind that Harry had no inclination to be take her place as captain- he knew he’d be no good at it anyway.

“So you want to accept the offer and settle for peace?” She asked.

“Absolutely not.” Zevon this time. “That’s pathetic.”

“Exactly! We can’t possibly actually be thinking of doing this. ‘Public relations campaign’ my ass. This isn’t Auradon, Tremaine, and you need to accept the reality that it never will be, no matter how important you think you are. Here, when we have an issue with someone, we fight them. None of that passive aggressive bullshit,” CJ argued. She looked like she was about to continue, but she was cut off by one of the only people she really listened to.

The rest of the crew straightened as a strong, impassive voice rose up. “We’re going to accept it. If your head tells you one thing and your ego the other,  _ you listen to your head. _ Doing anything else is getting yourself killed, and that’s the stupidest thing you can do. No one is saying that we lay down and make friends with Mal, but we’re not getting anything done like this. We were raised to be better than our parents, not to make the same stupid mistakes. They didn’t think things through, but we will.”

Harriet had spoken, and that, apparently, was enough to settle debate. CJ looked put out, but she had too much respect for Harriet to argue the point. So peace it was, then.

“Great,” Uma drawled sarcastically, “that’s decided. Gil, tell the merchant and let him go. Don’t let him out of your sight until he hits Mal’s territory.” Gil nodded and took off towards her office, where the merchant was still locked up. “Now for the matter of who we’re going to send.”

“What if it’s a trap?”

“I don’t think that it is. Firstly, ‘heroes’ don’t like that kind of thing. But more importantly, if it was, it would be a stupid one, and Mal isn’t stupid. It would only manage to get one person, not enough to cripple our side, and we’d know it was them. It would just piss us off,” Uma reasoned.

“I’ll go,” Harry volunteered quickly.

Uma shot it down even more quickly. “No, you won’t.” Her tone brooked no argument. He glared at her, fire in his eyes, but she stared him down. “I was actually going to ask Harriet.”

She turned to the older Hook, who was studying her impassively. Finally, Harriet smiled. “No problem. Give me the list tomorrow morning and I’ll be your delivery service.”

Uma ignored the eyes she felt boring a hole in her side. “Good. All that’s left is deciding the terms.”

\----

Harry missed most of what was said in the entire last half of the meeting. He just stared at Uma in angry disbelief, hook digging into his right arm.

She’d dismissed him entirely, in front of the entire crew. Worse, she’d passed him over for  _ Harriet. _ Harriet wasn’t the first mate,  _ Harry _ was. This was  _ his  _ ship, and she was not allowed to have it! It was  _ not hers. _

It was Harry’s, and it was Uma’s, and it was HarryandUma and HarryandUmaandGil. Harriet was  _ not _ part of the equation, except as an underling. She had no right.

But Uma had chosen her. She’d rejected Harry and picked Harriet, instead, right in front of everyone, and then she didn’t look at him again for the entire rest of the meeting. 

Harry was focused on her, but not so focused that he didn’t notice that the rest of the crew was giving him more and more space as the meeting passed. When Uma dismissed them, almost everyone scurried away. Gil hesitated, like he wanted to say something, but decided against it. Harry watched for Harriet, waited for her to send him that pointed look that told him  _ she was winning, _ but it didn’t come. She overlooked him entirely, as if he wasn’t worth her time. As if he never had been. It took all the self control he had not to go at her right there.

Eventually it was just Harry and Uma alone on the deck. He turned to her, fury burning in his veins, ready for a fight, when he saw her looking at him. Her face was stony and determined, but her eyes were soft. They were soft a lot when they looked at him or Gil, and they had been soft when she looked at Mal, before.

The very act of her seeing him dampened the rage somehow, but not the hurt that had caused it. “I told you I would go.”

Her jaw clenched. “That wouldn’t be a good idea. You know how you get when you’re up.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“Of course I do- not to betray me. But I don’t trust you not to start a fight because you thought the other kid looked at you wrong, or because you just don’t like them. This isn’t something I’m willing to risk for your ego, Harry.”

He reeled back as if he’d been slapped. “You think I can’t control myself. You think I’m dangerous.”

“I know you are.” At his reaction, she sighed, and softened. “We all are. We grew up  _ here. _ I don’t for a second think you’re a danger to me or to my-our- crew, but you’re far from responsible even on your good days. This isn’t a mission that requires your particular skillset.”

“You picked  _ Harriet. _ ”

She nodded, with that face she made whenever a risk seemed to be paying off. “It was the best move. On the off chance it’s a trap, she’s a good enough fighter to more than stand her own. And if it isn’t, she’s very capable of being professional. She won’t let anything stand in the way of her mission, and she’s very good at getting things done.

“Of course, it was also important for establishing her position on the crew. She’s not nobody. She has influence, whether we like it or not. So we acknowledge that. She has some status over the rest of the crew, and more responsibilities. More privileges. But that is  _ exclusively on our terms. _ She can’t betray us, she knows that; it would be a death sentence. Anything she has is because we let her. She has to carry out our missions if she wants to keep it. She answers to me.”

Harry was only slightly reassured. “She’s dangerous, Uma. If you give her too much power, she’ll abuse it. It’s only a matter of time before she tries to take her crew back.”

“I’m not an idiot, Harry. But there’s a difference between giving someone power and dressing up a puppet in fancy clothes. Don’t think for a minute that I trust her.” Harry was silent, but he shifted rapidly on his feet. Uma reached out to grab his hook. “You’re doing it again.”

As soon as her hands touched the metal, he stiffened. Only Uma was allowed to touch the hook- Gil on good days- but he  _ never _ liked it. She didn’t make a move to try to take it from him; she just moved his left arm down to his side, away from his right, which he had apparently been stabbing with the hook.

When she was satisfied that he wasn’t going to move it back, she grabbed him by the chin and looked him in the eye. Very slowly, she spoke. “You are my first mate. I trust you with my life. But you need to know your limits, and you need to trust that I know them too. When I say you can’t do something,  _ you can’t do it. _ Do you understand me?”

He nodded, feeling captivated. Uma was never better than when she was in absolute command, and  _ god _ he loved it. His anger had almost completely dissipated, replaced by a fervent need to follow her to the ends of the Earth, barrier be damned. She could send Harriet on as many missions as she wanted, and it didn’t matter. Because Harriet didn’t have her. And she never would.

\----

Harriet expected CJ to come after her soon enough, so she wasn’t surprised to see the blonde girl walking into the training room a couple of minutes after the meeting ended. CJ had a look on her face that someone else might have taken for anger; she was embarrassed. 

Minutes passed before she finally spoke. “Dad would have fought.”

“Dad lost his hand and got stuck here.” Harriet’s voice was tight; she didn’t particularly like to discuss the man.

CJ looked up at her. “Isn’t it pathetic to surrender? To just give up? We could  _ win, _ I know we could, if we would just  _ fight _ .”

Harriet shrugged. “We probably would. But maybe we wouldn’t. And if we tried, people would die. Some of theirs, some of ours. I know you want revenge against Mal, we all do.” Her eyes glinted. “But if we die fighting Mal, there won’t be enough of us to take down Auradon.”

“So we’re not giving up? Just… redirecting our efforts?”

“That’s one way to put it. We have bigger things to do than fight Mal’s lackeys in an alley.”

“Like take back your crew?” CJ asked. She spoke quietly, knowing that if anything got back to Uma, it would end very badly for them.

Harriet’s eyes scanned the room, double-checking for witnesses, before she answered. “That would be risky. She beat us the first time, and she’s only gotten stronger.”

“But if she was out of the picture-”

“Then there would be a power vacuum. The entire west side of the Isle would end up in a civil war. And you know we can’t take down Uma without taking Harry down, too.” 

It shouldn’t have been true, but it was. Both of them knew it. Still, CJ didn’t back down. “Is that so bad? He’s… He’s  _ Harry. _ ”

Harriet raised an eyebrow. “He’s our brother.”

“Is he?”

“More or less.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Forming an attachment to him would be stupid.”

Slowly, a grin cracked over Harriet’s face. “You’re learning, kiddo.” She leaned over and ruffled her hand in CJ’s hair.

CJ flushed happily. “So are we going to try?”

“No.” The smile dropped from CJ’s face. “It would be suicide. There’s no way we could even begin to form an offensive without Uma finding out and destroying us.”

As CJ pouted, Harriet tossed her a sword, and she caught it without thinking about it. They began with a simple back and forth. Strike, parry, counter-strike. Nothing too complicated. Not at first.

Finally, things began to speed up. Sparring like this- with real swords- was dangerous, sure, but they’d been doing it since they were kids and Harriet started teaching CJ to defend herself. If one of them didn’t manage to block a blow, the other would stop the sword before it did any real damage. 

The two of them hadn’t spent that much time together in the past couple of years, but when they both found themselves on Uma’s crew, they fell back into this habit with ease. They’d gotten along better than most siblings (Gastons excepted), which had both pros and cons. 

Pros: Harriet had an automatic minion early on, and CJ had someone to teach her how to survive. They had an ally nearby. They could partner up with scams and schemes. Cons: Harriet had to protect CJ. CJ was stuck in Harriet’s shadow. Everyone knowed that they cared more about each other than was wise, and that could be used against them.

Harriet was shaken out of her reverie when she nearly missed a strike from her sister. 

“What the hell are you so distracted about?”

“Nothing,” Harriet responded. 

“Oh,” CJ said. They fought in silence for a few more moments, before CJ started up again. “Do you miss it?”

Harriet pretended not to know what she was talking about. “Miss what?”

“Being captain.”

If the next blow from Harriet was stronger than the ones before, that was pure coincidence. “No.”

“I think you do,” said CJ. “I think you hate being told what to do, and I think you hate not being in control, and I think you hate seeing your crew-  _ your crew- _ following someone else’s orders.”

Just as she was finishing her sentence, she was caught off guard and found herself on the ground, silver against her neck. She may have been the only one allowed to needle her sister, but there were limits even for her. Still, Harriet leaned down, offering a hand. “I think you need to focus on the match.”

The conversation was over. CJ got up, face red, and thrust her sword. Strike, parry, counter-strike. And they carried on in silence.

Strike, parry, counter-strike.

\----

The meeting had delayed the scheduled supply run by a bit, but it had also made it livelier than usual. A group of crewmembers went, as usual- half of them thieves, the others muggers. Everyone had an hour to get what they needed, by whichever means they found most efficient. So long as they didn’t hurt western kids- Uma took care of her own, after all- then anything was fair game. 

Those of them who were better thieves pickpocketed with light hands. The bigger ones used intimidation and implied threats to get what they wanted. A couple of the better-known, better-liked ones, like Gil, were in charge of collecting what might in Auradon be known as donations. Plenty of people supported Uma’s cause, even if they couldn’t or wouldn’t join her crew, so things they could spare were often handed over.

Gil was more distracted than usual today, worrying about the spat between Harry and Uma. Tension always made him nervous, especially between those two. He’d been at it for almost the whole hour, and he couldn’t remember a single thing he’d collected. He checked the bag and forgot again a second later. It didn’t take a great deal of cunning to take something given to you, which was part of why Gil was so good at it. He knew he wasn’t smart, and he was fine with that- really.

He somehow managed to make his way back to the ship on time, dropping his bag on the floor where the others had congregated. Uma was waiting on the deck and grinned at him. Harry was right behind her, shifting impatiently on his feet. Neither looked angry or upset, which meant they’d made up. The knot in Gil’s stomach untied itself, and he beamed at them.

He was about to say something, but was cut off by a voice from behind them. It was Gonzo, holding up a crate of beer. “Guess what I got!”

Harry jumped forward. “Excellent! I think this calls for a  _ celebration. _ ” He held the last word, grinning manically as the crew around him roared with approval. 

Everyone glanced at Uma expectantly, and she nodded. “It’s a good day to party, boys.”

Gil cheered with the others as they began to descend to the lower deck. Desiree volunteered to keep watch on deck, and Gil promised to relieve her of her duty in an hour. Or two. Eventually, anyway.

As Gil entered the lounge room below deck- they didn’t have a better name for the room they used to hang out- music began to play loudly. Reza had fixed up a stereo he found in a dump, and Bonnie had dug up old cassettes of her father’s. The music was staticky, but no one noticed anyway. They had something else on their mind- partying. 

Jonas had left to collect spare crewmembers who didn’t live on the ship; everyone nearby had heard the commotion and joined in. Uma was laughing with a group of pirates over by the table, where someone had already busted out the cups. She was never more available to her crew than during parties. Gil considered joining her, but decided to follow Harry onto the dance floor.

There was no difference between the dance floor and the rest of the floor, except that people were dancing on it. Still, it was singled out every time, and today would be no exception. Harry was grinding up against people like there was no tomorrow and taking another swill of his beer.  Lowering his bottle to take a breath, he let out a scream.

The rest of the crew screamed back good-naturedly. Gil laughed, feeling the thrill of the party rushing through his veins. He loved this crew.  _ He loved this crew. _

It was impossible to tell how much time was passing. Jonas had returned with the missing pirates, and there was hardly a square foot that remained empty. Someone had set up a makeshift keg, and Harry was doing a kegstand. Anthony was dancing with Mad Maddy, and even Reza seemed to be enjoying himself. CJ was drunkenly swordfighting Ginny Gothel, and seemed to be winning. 

Gil, for his part, was having a  _ great _ time. He didn’t even remember his promise to Desiree until pirates started crowding around the center of the room to tell each other stories of conquest, victory, and hilarious failure. Uma was recalling the time Mal had gotten lost in Old Man Rufus’s cornfield- it was a rare treat for her to tell them stories about her old friend, and though this story was new to most of the crew, it was one Gil had heard before. He made his way back up to the upper deck to let Desiree join in the fun.

\----

Everything was happening in an exciting blur, and Harry had no idea how much of that was due to the beer bottles he’d left strewn on the table. People were telling stories in a circle, and Harry was dancing around the edge of it. He only heard half of what was being said, but he still laughed uproariously with the rest of the crew. He stopped briefly every now and then to run his hand over Uma’s hair, shoulder, arm, anything; it seemed he would float away if he didn’t tether himself to her somehow.

Gil had disappeared at some point, and others were starting to drift away and excuse themselves. It was late, apparently, but Harry didn’t feel any more tired than he had hours ago. Or that morning. Or last night.  

Harriet was one of the first to go, with CJ trailing behind her (always, always trailing behind her, that one, why was that?). Eventually Harry found himself virtually alone in the lounge- some people had passed out on the floor, and everyone else had gone. Except for Uma. Uma, who was beautiful. Uma, who was his captain. Uma, who was standing at the door with a raised eyebrow.

“Waiting for me?” He teased.

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to wake up and find out you’ve destroyed the ship. Go to sleep.”

“No can do, unfortunately. I’m not tired at all! I’ll just stay down here, who knows, maybe even clean up the place.”

“You haven’t slept properly in at least a week, Harry.”

He grinned. “You been watching me?”

“I need my first mate on the top of his game.”

“And I am! Never better. I feel  _ so good, _ it’s incredible.” It was true, too. He felt amazing. There was nothing he couldn’t do if he wanted to. Why didn’t Uma see that?

She gave him a look he couldn’t quite read- and didn’t entirely care to. She was always a puzzle to him when he was in one of his episodes; he couldn’t focus long enough to figure out what she was thinking.

Suddenly, he felt himself getting irritated. Why did Uma have to ruin this? He was having the time of his life. He was never tired, never hungry (not that that stopped him from eating). He’d already been riding high, and the party had made him borderline euphoric. Why would he sleep now?

“Go to bed,” Uma said, more forcefully this time.

“Why don’t you follow your own advice and leave me alone?” He snapped back.

Her eyes shuttered and she shot him a dirty look. “Watch it, Harry.” Still, she turned around and left.

Harry wasn’t worried about it. They’d known each other forever, and everything would be fine later. She’d realize that Harry’s sleep patterns were none of her business, and she’d apologize, and he’d have already forgotten that it ever happened.

Anyway, there was so much to do, and Harry couldn’t wait to do it. The room had to be cleaned, and then the glasses had to be washed, and then he would go for a walk- or a run- and maybe pick some fights, and then he would scrounge around in the dump to see if anything was worth taking, and then he would work out, and then people would be waking up and give him something else to do.

But he was getting ahead of himself. First, he had to clean the room. So he got started.

\----

Harriet was an early riser, and was usually the first person on the ship to get up. Today was no exception, and she found herself sitting in silence on the ship’s railing, watching the sun rise.

The sky never looked better than when it was blood red, and it was beautiful. When she was young, Harriet had thought that a red sky meant something bad would happen that day, but she’d grown out of that kind of superstition. With a father as unpredictable as James Hook, there was no way to tell whether or not it would be bad. It just was, or it wasn’t. Simple as that.

Harriet heard Harry messing around somewhere deep inside the ship, and thought that that unpredictability was something he had in common with his father. 

It could have been because she didn’t really know him all that well. She and CJ had no idea who their mothers were; it was customary for the more powerful villain of any given set of parents would decide whether they wanted the kid or not, and Hook had taken them. If their mothers were alive, or maybe even the same woman, was a complete unknown.

Harry, though. Hook hadn’t claimed him, for some reason. Harriet had been young when he was born, so she didn’t remember any of it. But she knew that she saw a boy sometimes that looked a little like her father, a boy who hung around the house looking in through the windows.

By then, she already had a sister. She didn’t want this weird boy doing anything to CJ, so she asked him why he was always around. He’d told her that he was her brother, and the rightful heir to the Hook name. She’d laughed in his face. When she asked her father, though, he got angry and didn’t deny it. 

Hook only ever referred to the boy as Runt, so it took Harriet a long time to learn that his name was Harry- she didn’t like him stealing her name, so she called him Runt, too. It was true enough, at first. He was small for his age, smaller than his classmates. But he grew, and he got bigger, and Hook never stopped calling him Runt. 

Harry, idiot that he was, never gave up. He kept styling himself after the father that didn’t want him. Harriet had no idea why he was so determined to be a Hook; she’d never been particularly fond of her father. She didn’t know his mom, but she assumed the woman was better than Hook.

CJ had only met him a couple of times. He went to a different school than they did, and never showed much interest in his younger sister. He was obsessed with his father, and with beating Harriet. 

Things changed when she was 15. The woman Harriet saw with Harry a lot stormed into Hook’s house. Harry was lingering behind her, eyes red and puffy. Had he been crying? Only babies cried.

The woman screamed up and down until “James, you bastard” came down. Harriet remembered a shouting match. The woman yelled that she “hadn’t even wanted the kid, you had, so how come I’m stuck with him?”

“It’s not my fault you birthed a pathetic runt!”

“He was a baby!”

“He was half the size Harriet had been!”

The screeching went on for a while, and then the two of them were throwing things. Harriet was hiding in a closet with CJ by then. There was a loud crash and a thump, and then silence. Harriet peaked out of the closet and saw her father striding out the room, calling behind his shoulder, “Get out of here, unless you want to end up like your mother, Runt.” 

The woman from before was on the floor, with a puddle of blood growing beneath her. Harriet would have to clean that up before it stained. She looked for Harry and saw him standing outside the door, staring at his mother, shaking, eyes wide. When he saw her looking at her, he took off. She didn’t see him again for a while after that.

She only found out later that he was part of Mal and Uma’s crew, which raised her opinion of him. That opinion came crashing back down when she saw him again, this time with a hook at the end of his left arm. He didn’t visit their house anymore, but he was just as obsessed with Hook as he’d ever been.

A year or two later, Harriet heard that he’d started going off the rails. Then he wasn’t. Then he was breaking down. Then he wasn’t. Then he was off the rails again- it was hard to keep up, and Harriet didn’t really care enough to try anyway. 

Harry was 17 now, and he hadn’t really changed from the weird little boy Harriet had seen standing outside her house. He was never mentioned their father by name, but he had themed himself entirely around the man. He took any opportunity he could to convince himself he was better than his sister, that not claiming him had been a mistake. The only thing that had changed was his new “episodes.”

From what she could tell, he was having one now. If Uma’s tense shoulders hadn’t told her, she would have noticed just from his behavior. His energy level had slowly been rising for a while, and he was increasingly erratic. He only took a break from being excited to be irritated or frustrated. Jonas, who’d been on the crew before her, told her that they called this an ‘up’ episode, and that would wear off in a few weeks.

Harriet suspected that, without Uma, Harry would fall apart. Uma was more able to stand on her own two feet, but she seemed to have, for some reason, a soft spot for the other pirate. Driving a wedge between them would be the easiest way for Harriet to get the upper hand and maybe take back her crew. 

As if she could smell mutiny brewing, Uma appeared behind her. “I don’t know why you do this every morning. It always looks the same.”

Right, the sunrise. Harriet had forgotten about it, honestly. She looked at the blue-haired girl and shrugged without answering.

Uma studied her for a second, as if trying to determine whether or not Harriet could be trusted. Finally, she turned and left.

Good riddance.

\----

It had been about 45 minutes since Harriet had left for Goblin Wharf. Long enough that she could (should) have been back by now, but not long enough for Uma to be suspicious. Yet.

She was edging ever closer to it, though, until she heard a knock on her door. Assuming it was Harriet, she pulled it open quickly.

Reza was standing on the other side, looking surprised to have had the door opened so easily. “Oh,” he said.

Generally speaking, Uma was capable of being patient. Right now, though, was an exception. “What do you want?”

“I had an idea I wanted to show you,” he squeaked. Uma never hurt members of her crew, but managed to keep them scared of her, somehow.

“Show me, then.”

Nodding, he led her down to the corner of the ship where he slept and worked. His mattress was covered in paper, as usual. 

Reza reached down to grab a stack and started waving it around. He began talking a hundred miles per hour, reverting to using the most pretentious words he could find.

After a couple of minutes, he apparently finally realized that Uma was staring at him, unimpressed, and took a deep breath to calm himself.

“Right. Sorry. So I- this- it’s a bomb. Well, basically. And I know! I know what you’re going to say! There aren’t bombs on the Isle, because of course not. But! We can make some. I figured out how to make one with just what we can find here. It’s a little complicated, but it could be really good.”

A bomb. That really could be useful, except… “We’re supposed to be working out a peace with Mal, not blowing her up.”

Reza smiled nervously. “I know. And that’s- well, I don’t agree with it, but whatever, that’s great. But just in case it doesn’t work out, you know. If we have to fight them after all. Or if something else happens- someone else tries to mess with you, we can-” his eyes flickered brightly- “we can use this.”

It was certainly tempting, and it wasn’t unreasonable. Just because they were establish a sort-of peace with Mal’s group didn’t mean there wouldn’t be other threats in the future. And, honestly, the bomb seemed pretty cool. If Reza could actually make one, it would be helpful in the future. Finally, after contemplating it some more, Uma nodded. Yes, he could work on it.

It was nice to have been briefly distracted from waiting to hear from Harriet, but now that the diversion was over, she was right back in purgatory. 

As she crossed the deck to get to her office, Uma signalled Gil over from where he was doing something with Harry. Harry looked irritated to be interrupted, but Gil didn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, Captain, what’s up?”

“Harriet’s not back yet,” Uma told him, voice low. He looked surprised to hear it; good, that meant that the rest of the crew wasn’t keeping track of it.

“You want me to find her?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. But if she doesn’t come back soon… I’ll let you know.”

She made her way back to her office to wait. She couldn’t help remembering the look on Harriet’s face when she’d been watching the sunset earlier that day. Calculating. She’d been planning something.

It would be ridiculous for Harriet to pull something now. Her old crew had grown loyal to Uma too. More importantly, even with that crew, Harriet would have been overpowered. If she disobeyed or betrayed Uma now, it would be tantamount to suicide. She hadn’t even taken CJ with her- the youngest Hook was sleeping off the previous night on the floor of the lower deck. There was nowhere for Harriet to go, unless she wanted to join Mal’s side; that would be equally stupid, because even if Mal accepted, the betrayal would have the entirety of Uma’s crew scrambling for vengeance.

So it was just a matter of time before Harriet came back, saying that the other messenger had been late.

Except that an hour passed, and another, and there had still been no sign of her.

Uma slid out of her office, keeping a casual expression on her face. When she saw Gil, she nodded slightly at him to signal that he should go. He nodded back and took off. When he was out of sight, she settled back into her office and prepared for the worst.

\----

If Gil had understood correctly- and it was, of course, possible that he absolutely had not- then Harriet had been gone for at least three hours doing a job that should have taken five minutes. It absolutely did not look good, but he was determined to stay optimistic.

His positivity was wavering when, half an hour later, he still hadn’t found her. He’d made it almost all the way to Goblin Wharf already, sure he’d missed her at some earlier point. He was worrying about this possibility when he tripped over something in a relatively dark alley. 

Gil managed to catch himself before he hit the ground, and turned to look at what he’d tripped on. It looked like a larger-than-average dark mass, but it smelled kind of… like blood?

_ Oh, shit. _ It was a body. Feeling his heart hammering in his chest as he prayed it wasn’t who he thought it would be, he kneeled down to check.

As he’d feared, it was Harriet. Her skin was cold already, and her eyes were glazed over. In all the time Gil had known her, he’d never seen her look remotely like this. Even without the visible injuries, it would have been obvious that this wasn’t that girl anymore. Just in case, he checked for a pulse, and didn’t find one. He felt for breath, and got nothing. He was cradling a corpse.

Horrified by the thought, he instinctively dropped her. She didn’t react at all to the impact-  _ of course not, she’s dead, idiot-  _ and that snapped him back to reality. Oh, this was bad. Peace with Mal was not happening. It would never happen, not after this. The crew was going to be furious and out for blood, and Uma couldn’t deny them that. 

If fighting had been bad before, it would be a hundred times worse now. People were definitely going to die- Harriet already had. Briefly, the thought crossed Gil’s mind that he could hide the body and say Harriet had run away. But that didn’t make any sense, and it wasn’t fair to anyone, so he pushed that thought to the side.

He picked up her body, and nearly dropped it again at the sight of her head lolling back listlessly. Panic clawed at his chest, and grief- grief for the girl he’d barely known, who had not deserved to die. Grief for CJ, who had loved her. Grief for those who would follow, dying in the ensuing battles. 

Grief for their last chance at peace.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was trying to write Harry as being bipolar and in a manic episode, but since I don't have firsthand experience of that I'm very sorry if I wrote it inaccurately or offensively. Also, since there's no mental healthcare on the Isle, it's really not going to be handled well by a lot of the characters.
> 
> The next chapter goes back to Mal's team and brings Carlos back.
> 
> Also. Sorry I killed Harriet. You might not care, but I actually really really liked her, and was sorry to see her go. Unfortunately, it's necessary for reasons that will be seen later.
> 
> If anyone is willing to beta or offer constructive criticism, that would be great. If not, leaving any comment would be greatly appreciated! Thanks :)


	3. Everything Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Mal's corner, they deal with the outcome of the planned meeting and find Carlos. He's not in great shape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhhh lots of medical stuff in this chapter folks, more details in the notes below. Also, mentions of child abuse. Also, mentions of death. No one's having a great time, really.  
> (Also I can't post it yet bc i asked a friend to review it first but as i'm writing it's 4:20 am where i am so bLAZE IT)

The blood didn’t have to mean anything bad.

Well, bad, of course, but not- maybe not _that_ bad. Maybe manageable. _Oh, Jace tripped and hurt his ankle. He can’t walk back on his own._ And that’s all. Not good, but not terrible.

But there was no getting past the look in Diego’s eyes. That look wasn’t easily brought on, not here. In Auradon, sure- they panicked over a broken nail over there. But on the Isle, it only ever meant that something had gone very, very wrong.

Thankfully, Mal spoke first, because Jay’s throat had gone completely dry. “Jay, go with him. Bring Jace back here. If he’s alright, great. If not… we’ll figure something out.”

He nodded mutely at her and looked at Diego. Getting the message, Diego took off into the alleyway he’d come from. Jay followed him in.

Wherever Jace was, it wasn’t nearby. Diego was pretty in shape, and he still seemed out of breath from running. Carrying Jace back wouldn’t be easy.

Finally, only a couple of blocks from the Wharf, Diego slowed almost to a stop. He leaned on the wall of a building, trying to catch his breath. After a minute, he motioned into a nearby alleyway. Jay went in, and stopped when he saw what was inside.

The Frollo kid was cradling a dead body in her lap. She’d lain her cross on the chest and was whispering over it, her hair obscuring the face.

But Jay didn’t need to see the face to know who it was. He ignored the part of himself that whispered, _it’s your fault, why did you let him go, what could you possibly have been thinking_. He forced himself to approach slowly, quietly. He made a slight noise so Frollo would know he was there, but tried not to disrupt her. When he reached her side, he kneeled down and touched her shoulder.

He hadn’t been prepared for the expression on her face. He’d expected anger at Uma’s betrayal. He’d expected panic at the realization that fighting would probably get worse. He’d expected grief at the death of someone so young.

He hadn’t expected sad resignation. She didn’t seem surprised to see him, or to be holding a corpse. She looked like this had been expected; and it probably had been. When someone went missing on the Isle, they didn’t come back. Things didn’t get better here; usually the other way around.

Jace’s face was visible now, though. His eyes were glassy, and his neck was bent at an unnatural angle. The blood running down his face provided a stark contrast to the pale greyish-blue of his skin. There was no doubt in Jay’s mind that he’d been dead for hours, had probably never even made it to the Wharf. He checked for a pulse just to put off having to face reality for another second. He got nothing.

Beside him, Frollo was still praying fervently. Her head was angled up at the sky now, hands clasped in front of her. Jay couldn’t understand why. How could she possibly believe in a God growing up on the Isle? Any God who let this happen wasn’t one Jay wanted to worship. But she looked almost at peace now, in a way people on the Isle rarely were- he could have killed her right then and there, she’d left herself so vulnerable.

He didn’t, of course. Instead, he put his hands under Jace’s body and picked him up. At first he cradled him, but it was quickly apparent that that was not an efficient way to do it. Jace was dead, Jay reminded himself. He wouldn’t care. He couldn’t care. He couldn’t do anything.

So Jay slung Jace over his shoulder, resisting the urge to throw up. He’d seen dead bodies before. This wasn’t new. _But he’d thought it was over._ Another wave of anger washed over him. He and his friends were supposed to be safe in Auradon, they were supposed to stop expecting death at every turn. Instead, they’d been thrown back to the wolves, and that had started all this mess. One kid was already dead, and more would follow, and no one seemed to be coming for any of the other Isle kids.

What bullshit.

Shaking himself out of it, Jay walked out of the alley. He heard Frollo get up and wipe herself off behind him. Diego was still waiting at the corner, avoiding looking at Jace. From what Jay knew from Carlos, Diego had had it fairly easy growing up. He was a pretty sheltered kid; his dad provided food most of the time, and he was less involved in fights than most. He probably hadn’t seen many corpses before. Jay hoped he hadn’t known Jace, but knew that was probably pointless. He was a de Vil, after all.

As he was walking back in the direction of the compound, Jay heard Diego talk behind him. “Are you okay, Claudine?”

Frollo- Claudine- hummed in response. “He’s with God now.”

By the sound of it, Diego had barely managed to stifle a snort. They fell silent then, having reached an impasse.

The rest of the journey back passed without incident. No one said a word.

There was nothing to say.

\----

As soon as she saw Jay walk into view, a body slung over his shoulder, Mal knew that the time for peace had ended. If Jace had been alive, he wouldn’t be hanging off of Jay’s back like that. His neck wouldn’t bend like that.

Mal tried to school her features into an impassive expression. She couldn’t be seen losing control; she was their leader. She was responsible for them. They trusted her.

Jay got closer, with Diego and a girl trailing behind, and stopped in front of her. He and Mal stared at each other for a minute, before Mal cleared her throat.

“We should tell the others.”

He nodded, setting Jace down on the ground. “Are we going to do the Last Rites?”

The Last Rites were the closest thing to a tradition that they had on the Isle. There wasn’t any space to bury everyone who died on the Isle, and no one had the time for that anyway. Instead, bodies were thrown into the ocean. Sometimes it turned out the person wasn’t really dead; the shock of cold water woke them up, and someone pulled them out of the water. Half the time when that happened, the person ended up dying within the next day anyway, and got tossed back into the sea.

If a body wasn’t dealt with, it would be eaten. It wasn’t clear who did it- it might have been a goblin, or an animal, or just a hungry human. But that was usually even more disgusting than a regular rotting body, so people were disposed of in the water instead.

“Yeah, we’ll do the Rites. Anyone can come who wants to. But first we have to tell them.”

Jay regarded her. “Are you going to do it?”

Mal nodded grimly. Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked inside. She told everyone in the room to announce a conference, and they scattered. Within minutes, the room was full. Mal had to stand on a crate so people could see her.

“Jace was killed.” She said it bluntly, because to beat around the bush would be to waste everyone’s time.

There was a silence so complete that she could have heard a pin drop- until a small voice from the back called out incredulously, “No, he wasn’t.”

The voice belonged to a kid who seemed to be about 14. He looked like Jace a little; the two must have been related.

“I’m sorry,” Mal said, voice softening. “He’s dead. We left his body outside. We’re going to do the Last Rites soon.”

The kid laughed, sound high and shaky. “No you aren’t. Because he’s not dead. Because that’s ridiculous, it was an easy exchange, nothing happened, he’s fine. I’ll go outside and get him and show you,” he said. No one stopped him from walking out the door. They’d all seen this before, and they knew what to expect.

A minute later, an angry scream sounded. It was followed by sounds of someone hitting the walls and angry cursing. Everyone in the room stared at the floor as they waited for it to end. If Mal hadn’t known better, she would have thought some of them were crying.

Eventually, the screaming ended, and the kid stormed back into the room. His face was red and his eyes aflame. “I want to see them burn.”

Freddie Facilier spoke up. “We all do.” He glared at her. “But there’s no point rushing into things. We have to think this through.”

“Yeah, we just sit tight and think it through while they kill us. Great idea,” Jay snarked.

Evie gave him the side-eye. “Jace isn’t going to be the only one dead if we just blindly attack the other side.”

“At least then he wouldn’t have died for nothing!” Jay shot back.

The crowd was starting to get restless; soon, either a fight or a debate would break out, and Mal wasn’t sure which one would be worse. Jay seemed to be riling them up; removing him from the situation might calm things down.

More importantly, Mal had something she needed him to do. Uma had sent a very clear message. Peace was not an option, and things would only get worse from here. They had Reza, Mal was sure of it. So they’d need Carlos. He was the one who knew technology; he was the one who had taken down the barrier once. Maybe he could help Mal be able to use her magic. They needed him, and they needed someone to get him.

“Jay.” She had his attention, as well as everyone else’s. “Go get Carlos. We’ll need him.”

He looked at her despairingly. “The doors are locked. We don’t know if anyone’s inside.”

“Break in. Whatever you do, don’t come back without him.”

Jay stared at her. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but Evie cut him off. “Jay, go. It’s alright. We won’t fall apart without you.”

Mal could have sworn she saw him almost flinch. Still, whatever it was that had bothered him, it had worked. Face hard, he walked silently out of the building. When he was gone, Mal turned back to the crowd of anxious people in front of her.

What seemed like a hundred pair of eyes were trained on her. They expected her to know how to proceed. To tell them what to do. And she had absolutely no idea.

Thankfully, Evie came to her rescue. “I guess peace is out of the question now.”

“That does seem to be the case,” Mal agreed. “Things are going to get a lot worse from here on out. Anyone who doesn't want to be here is free to leave. But I can't promise you won't still be caught in the crossfire.”

She honestly expected some people to leave. She'd forgotten where she was; these kids would be no safer on their own than they would be here. So no one moved.

“Good. I think we're agreed that we aren't going to retaliate just yet-”

“No, we fucking aren't.” The same kid from before cut her off.

Evie put a hand out to him. “Harry-”

He pulled away from her. “Don’t touch me! They betrayed and _killed_ one of us, and you want to do what? Nothing? That's bullshit!”

“We’re not doing nothing,” Mal corrected forcefully. “We’re preparing. I’m willing to bet anything that they’re as in need of supplies as we are, and they’re going to want first pick of the barge. The more we get, the less they do; it’s a win-win. But we won’t get anything if we aren’t ready.”

“But-”

Mal cut him off. “That’s the last of that. Right now, we’re building the groundwork, so when the time comes, we can bury them in it. Am I clear?”

She let her eyes glow green again, and the boy- Harry- stilled. He was glaring at her angrily, but he knew better than to push the subject now. Evie shot her a look, but Mal couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be good or bad. Maybe neither. So she ignored it.

She had bigger things to worry about.

\----

The floor was clean.

That meant he could sleep now, which was good. He was tired. He was really tired. He didn’t want to go to his room- moving was hard- but his mother wouldn’t be happy if she found him asleep in the living room.

He pulled himself across the floor. He had to keep stopping when things went white in his head with a feeling in his leg he couldn’t remember the name of but didn’t like. When he reached the closet door, he kneeled on the leg that wasn’t bad and raised his arm to turn the knob. One of his arms; he had two, he was sure of it, but when he moved them he only counted one. Maybe he’d misplaced the other one. Could you misplace an arm? Maybe it was sleeping. Sleep. Right, he was going to sleep.

As the door pushed open, he looked back to make sure the floor was still clean. Things weren’t good when it wasn’t, and he might have gotten blood on it again- he was no good about that, really. He liked seeing that it was still spotless, because it meant he could sleep now, which was good. He was tired. He was really tired. But that was okay, because the door was open already.

He dragged himself the rest of the way into the room, and only whited out once. He let himself lie down on the floor, and even had time to catch his breath after the wave of the feeling he didn’t like. The arm he knew was definitely there stretched along the floor until it grabbed the bottom of the door and closed it, and he let himself roll over.

There was a loud snap, but he didn’t feel anything touch him, so he forgot about it. He could sleep now, which was good. He was tired. He was really tired. It wasn’t really dark, with light streaming in the window on the other side of the room, but he didn’t mind. Things were darker when he closed his eyes, anyway.

He must have fallen asleep, or his eyes stopped working, because it was dark when he opened them again, too. Why was he awake? Or maybe he wasn’t?

The sound of a door slamming open made him jump, moving the bad leg, and it took him a second before he could think past the white in his head. His mother was home. She didn’t do that a lot lately, but he knew the drill. She liked him to wait silently in the closet, in case it was anyone else who might find him, or if she just didn’t want to deal with him. He liked those times, because it meant he could keep sleeping.

But the footsteps were getting louder, and they were heavy, which was usually bad. It meant Cruella wasn’t very happy with him, and he held his breath, trying to think what she was mad about. The floor was clean. There were no dirty dishes. Her bed was made, pillows fluffed. Some food had been left out for her.

The louder the footsteps got, the louder the thumping in his chest got, and he couldn’t help tensing. He didn’t like this, not at all. The steps stopped in front of his door, and he screwed his eyes shut. Maybe he was somewhere else, actually. Maybe he wasn’t here, and he just thought he was. Maybe she wasn’t mad, and maybe she wasn’t going to open the door, and maybe everything was going to be fine.

But the door opened, and he could feel her staring down at him. Maybe if he didn’t move, she wouldn’t be mad anymore.

“Jess is Chris,” the voice said. It didn’t sound like her, and it sounded sad, so he risked opening an eye to look up at whoever said it.

It wasn’t his mother. It was a boy with long black hair, and he- Puppy? Carlos? One of those- knew him. Somehow, from somewhere, he knew him, and his head hurt now. That was a lot of light coming in from the door. The boy kneeled down and reached out a hand, and Puppy stiffened in an attempt not to move away.

His brain was running, footsteps thudding in his skull, and he was trying to think. Mother would be very angry if she found out he’d been discovered. But maybe this boy would be angry too, if he moved. But he wasn’t scared with this boy- no, he was scared, but less. He looked safe, somehow, and his eyes were soft.

Puppy risked speaking. His mother didn’t like it- puppies should not be seen or heard- but this boy (and Carlos knew he knew him, he just couldn’t _think)_ seemed nicer. “Hi,” he said. His voice was croaky and bad and weird, and he checked to see if that made the boy angry. It didn’t, so he continued. “Not...m-mom...”

That was a mistake. The boy was angry now, and Carlos tensed again. It would be better to wait out whatever he wanted to do, and then maybe he would go away and Puppy could go back to sleep.

The boy said something else, looking softer. Carlos couldn’t quite make out what it was, but it sounded nice. More importantly, he remembered the boy’s name now. Jace. No, J. Jay. That was it. He was good, he was nice. Probably not going to hurt Puppy, then, unless he did something stupid.

Carlos tried smiling at him, and it pulled a little weird at his cheek. Jay made a funny face and reached out to touch him again. Again, Puppy forced himself not to move. Jay reached past him and fumbled with something. Turning his head to look, Carlos saw one of his mom’s traps spring open. It had trapped something weird and blackish and- was that what happened to his arm? Huh.

Before he could think up a good response, Jay was sliding his hands under him, and seemed to be-

Things were white and very bad for longer than usual, and there was a funny noise that Puppy suspected had come from him. It took him a long time to be able to breathe again- which was worse than before, now- and when his vision cleared he saw a boy looking down at him, looking scared. Who- Right. That was… Jay? Jay.

Jay was backing away, saying something that Carlos couldn’t understand but included words like “back” and “wait” and “help.” He turned and ran, and then Puppy was alone again.

Well, that had been weird. But Carlos could go back to sleep now, which was good. He was tired. He was really tired.

\----

Evie was flipping through some of the medical textbooks Jay had brought her, trying not to think too hard about anything that had happened that day. She wasn’t really absorbing any of the information; it was just something to do. Dizzy was sitting silently behind her, sniffling slightly. When Evie turned to look, the girl’s eyes were red. So she stopped looking.

Her brilliant plan to not think about anything was ruined when Jay slammed into the door of the warehouse they called home. He stumbled in and hurried to the med area- alone. Carlos was supposed to come back with him, so _where was he?_

Jay finally stopped about an inch in front of her, breathing hard. “Carlos- he’s- I found- Evie, he’s-”

He wasn’t making any sense, so Evie did the only thing she could think of to get him to focus. She slapped him. It worked, because he stopped rambling.

“Thanks. I, uh- I found Carlos. He’s at Hell Hall, and he’s really not in good shape. I tried to bring him here but when I picked him up he screamed and his eyes rolled back and his arm- you have to come with me, Evie. I don’t know what else to do.”

Shit. Shit shit shit. That wasn’t what Evie wanted to hear. She wasn’t qualified for any of this. But they weren’t going to find anyone else on the Isle who was, so she would have to make do. She turned and pointed to Dizzy, who at some point had stood and was now staring at her with wide eyes. “You- go get poppies from the field, you know the ones I’m talking about. Bring them to Hell Hall. Do you know how to get there?”

Dizzy nodded, and Evie turned back to Jay. “You’re going to stay here, fill Mal in on the situation, and just… do whatever. I don’t care. I have to go.”

She took off out of the hideout, ignoring the strange looks from other kids. As she hurried to Carlos’s house, heart pounding, she reminded herself that they had time. It had been three weeks; a few more minutes wouldn’t make a difference. He was bad, but he wasn’t _dead,_ and they’d expected bad anyway. It was fine. He was fine.

She finally reached the house on the top of the hill, and saw that the door had been damn near ripped off its hinges. Either Jay had been overzealous in getting in, or Cruella had come back, found the door open, and absolutely lost it. That would be really, _really_ bad.

Fortunately, it took Evie less than a minute to determine that Cruella hadn’t returned. There was no screaming and, more importantly, no one reacted to her own not-so-quiet journey through the house. She knew where she was going; she had no doubts that Carlos would be in his closet, and she knew exactly where that was.

Sure enough, when she reached the right room, she could see Carlos by the open door of the closet. He was staring at her, face red and furrowed in confusion. Evie approached him slowly, not wanting to scare him. His eyes followed her, but he didn’t move away. “Carlos?” she called softly.

He looked even more confused now. “Yup,” he said. At least, that was Evie’s best guess; it had been pretty slurred. By the look and sound of it, he had a concussion, but he was conscious, so that could wait a minute while she looked him over.

His face was bruised, as she’d expected, and his eyes were slightly unfocused. His right arm as scratched up and bruised, but mostly fine. The left arm, though- that was a lost cause. It was lying by a bear trap and had was full of glass and puncture wounds, but it wasn’t bleeding. At all. It had gone mostly black and looked dry; gangrene was her best guess. His right leg was bent weirdly near the top; probably a broken femur, but it didn’t look infected. The stuttering breaths indicated bruised or broken ribs, but no lung puncture.

There didn’t seem to be any open, gaping wounds, so Evie could focus on triaging the other stuff. She started with the arm. A strip of cloth was tied tightly- too tightly, she saw- just below the shoulder. Judging by the deep lacerations and glass further down, it had probably been a hurried attempt at a tourniquet to stop bleeding. Unfortunately, it had apparently never been removed, and the lack of blood flow to the arm had killed the tissue. It didn’t look salvageable, and with the risk of the infection spreading…

There was nothing she could do for that now. She moved on to the right leg. It didn’t look too bad, luckily. She tried moving it slightly to see if it had to be rebroken, and ignored the strangled cry that accompanied the motion. It hadn’t set yet, so it should be okay with a splint for now. Looking around, she found a shower rod in the bathroom that would do, and she bandaged it to the leg. “Try not to move it too much,” Evie said softly. She wasn’t sure he could hear her over his heavy breaths and mumbled apologies, but she hoped so.

In the past, she would have wrapped his chest in case of broken ribs, but a nurse in Auradon had told her that was a bad idea, and she didn’t know what else to do. There wasn’t anything cold enough to use as an ice pack; fridges weren’t really a thing on the Isle. So she just sat there, watching Carlos breathe haggardly and waiting for Dizzy to appear.

He turned his head slightly to look at her again. He said something that sounded like it might be about knowing her. _Shit,_ she’d forgotten the concussion.

“Do you remember my name?” She asked. He stared at her, eyes squinted in concentration, as if it was just out of his grasp. She tried an easier question. “Do you remember your name?”

His face smoothed out some, and he made an expression that might have been a smile. “P-pup-y.” She felt her lunch coming back up and forced it down. He seemed to sense that his answer was wrong, and tried again. “Carl-los?”

She made herself smile at him and nod. “That’s very good.” He preened at her praise. “Do you know where we are?”

“R-Roo...m. Mi-ine.” Close enough. He seemed to be having some difficulty forming words, but Evie didn’t know what that meant. When they got back to the hideout, she’d have to look it up in one of the medical textbooks.

Which reminded her- she would have to find a way to bring him back. There was a chance he would be able to walk, if she supported the right side, but she didn’t want to aggravate the ribs. Their best bet would be using his mattress as a stretcher, but she wasn’t sure it would be able to hold his weight in the shape it was in. They would have to try, at least, so she stood to go get it. Of course, as soon as she did, she managed to drop her first-aid kit on Carlos’s bad leg.

“Sorry!” Carlos, who had apparently settled down for a nap, pried an eye open and made a questioning noise, so she explained. “For dropping the bag on your leg.” He still looked confused, and with a jolt, Evie felt her stomach drop. “Did you not feel it?”

He started to shake his head lightly, but stopped and blinked quickly, as if he’d made himself dizzy. Evie kneeled back down on the floor beside him, laying a hand on his foot. “Tell me when you feel it, okay?”

“O...kay.”

She pinched his toe and looked for a reaction. Nothing. She moved her hand down to his ankle and tried again. Still nothing. Slowly but surely, Evie made her way up his leg. He finally reacted when her hand was on his upper thigh, making a pained noise.

He still felt his upper leg, so it wasn't a spinal injury- she assumed, anyway. She leaned over and pinched his other leg, and he nodded. “F... feel.”

It was specific to the right leg then. Maybe he'd damaged a nerve? Evie had no idea what nerves were in the leg, but she knew there were some. Her best guess was that the break in the femur had managed to hit one. That would make moving him difficult, because any bump to the nerve would be hell. That explained why he'd seemed in so much pain while she put on the splint, but at least it would help prevent further movement.

“I'm here! I've got the- oh! That's- is he- I brought the poppies.” Dizzy had finally arrived, arms full of flowers and chest heaving.

Evie looked to see if Carlos was worried by her reaction, but he'd gone completely still. Eyes wide and body tense, he was staring at Dizzy in what seemed dishearteningly like fear- a fear she hadn't seen on his face in months.

Keeping her voice soft and light to avoid scaring him more, Evie turned to the younger girl and said, “Leave the poppies here, and wait outside. I'll come get you in a few minutes so you can help me move him. Okay?”

Dizzy nodded, setting down the flowers and hurrying away. Carlos had relaxed slightly, and was shaking now, face pinched. That certainly wouldn't help his ribs. Evie cooed softly as she moved to pick up some of the poppy buds. That only seemed to make him shake harder, so she stopped.

When she reached him again, she began to scratch at one of the buds until a white liquid drizzled out- opium. It was the only form of pain relief they had on the Isle, since Auradon-approved pain medication was almost impossible to come by. Opium poppies were the next best thing. The problem now was convincing him to take it.

She tried putting it gently in his mouth, but Carlos clamped his jaw shut and grabbed her wrist with his good arm. He didn't make eye contact, but his grip on her arm was tight enough to hurt. Evie was surprised that he had the strength.

“Carlos, look at me,” she said quietly. He didn't move. “Carlos.” After a moment, he turned his head to look at her, but still didn't meet her eyes. “You know me. I know you know that, because you told me. My name is Evie, and I’m not going to hurt you. I need you to _trust me,_ okay?”

He looked confused again, face scrunching up in thought, but he loosened his hold on her wrist. After a minute, he nodded slightly and winced. He grabbed the poppy bud himself and put it to his lips. In a second, he was drinking from it- and drinking, and drinking, and Evie had to pull it away. “That’s too much, you’re going to overdose.” He made a face, but didn’t protest.

He’d had enough that he would probably be out in a few minutes, and she had something to ask before then. “Do you know when your mother’s coming home?” Hopefully, they would be long gone by then.

It was the wrong thing to ask, apparently, because his eyes flew wide open and he started to roll over, grunting painfully.

“Carlos, stop it! You’re going to make things worse!”

He used his good arm to push himself up, resting his weight on his left leg. Evie put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, and he looked at her, eyes wild. “F-flo...oor. Cl-Clean.”

“It’s clean,” she told him forcefully. “The floor is clean. It’s clean. You don’t have to worry about it. It’s clean.”

Slowly, his breathing calmed, and Carlos began to relax. He let himself down gently onto his left hip and rolled back onto his back. His face was red and his eyes were screwed shut, but Evie hoped that if she just waited it out, he would fall asleep.

Sure enough, the opium did its magic in a few minutes. Evie waited quietly as Carlos’s breathing slowed- calm, but still stuttering- and his face relaxed. When she was sure he was out, she got up and found Dizzy outside.

The Tremaine was bouncing on her feet, looking relieved to see Evie. “Is he okay? He looked bad. Did I do something wrong? Did I get the right flowers? How are we going to get him back to the compound?” Evie put up a hand, and Dizzy slowed to a stop. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Evie breathed. “He’s not fine, but he’s not in any danger of dying, so he’s close enough. Yes, you got the right flowers, and thank you. We’ll bring them back with us to keep a supply on hand; we need to remember to keep stock of those, because we might be needing them soon. I was thinking we could put him on his mattress and carry him back together.”

Dizzy nodded, and followed her inside. When they reached the closet, her eyes lingered on Carlos for a moment before she caught sight of the rest of the closet. “Holy shit! What the fuck is that? Are those bear traps?”

“Unfortunately, yes. His room’s in there, so I’m going to have to go in to get the mattress.”

Dizzy’s eyes brightened. “I can do it. I’m very good on my feet, you know.”

Reluctantly, Evie agreed to let her do it. Normally, she wouldn’t have, but she was _exhausted._ She was liable to blink too long and fall onto a bear trap face-first.

Anyway, Dizzy had been telling the truth. She practically danced across the room, seeming too excited to be risking life and limb, but never so much as touched a trap. She disappeared into the adjoining dressing room and popped back out a second later with Carlos’s mattress. Brow furrowed, she looked down at the floor, as if trying to figure out how to get across again.

Finally, she made a humming noise, and lifted the mattress over her head and onto her back, holding it in place with her hands. She was more careful crossing the room this time- worried that carrying the mattress would throw off her balance? She left her feet on the floor and shuffled slowly back to where Evie was waiting for her.

“Good job,” Evie told her, and she beamed, setting the mattress down on the floor. Tentatively, Evie reached out a hand to touch Carlos, sighing in relief when he didn’t react at all. The opium was doing its job- which reminded her to put the remaining buds on the mattress to carry back with them. Now she just had to figure out how to get _him_ on.

She couldn’t roll him over; his right leg was closest to the makeshift stretcher, and she didn’t want to risk damaging the nerve any further (if that was even what was wrong). Instead, she pushed the mattress up against him and picked up his head, laying it near the top. Dizzy held down the pallet to keep it from moving as Evie struggled to lift Carlos onto it without hurting him further.

It took a while, but they managed it. They paused for a moment, tired, before Evie stood and, leaning over, grabbed the side of the mattress. Dizzy took the cue and followed suit, and between the two of them they got Carlos up. For a minute, Evie held her breath, watching to see if the mattress would fall apart. Miraculously, it didn’t.

The compound wasn’t exactly nearby, but it wasn’t that far, either. Evie was determined to make it in one go rather than stopping for a break midway through. Dizzy might take some convincing, but Evie was sure she could do it. So, very slowly and very carefully, they made their way out of Hell Hall and back into the heart of the city.

\---

Jay kept tapping his foot impatiently, and the sound was driving Mal crazy.

She was sitting in her office with him, both waiting for _something_. She would have to do the Last Rites for Jace soon, and she couldn’t decide whether or not she wanted to wait until after Evie arrived with Carlos. On the one hand, she wanted to be able to help if she could; on the other, it might be easier for Evie to do what she needed to if the compound was empty.

Harry Badun, apparently Jace’s cousin, was pacing nervously outside of Mal’s office, arms tightly crossed. He wanted to get the Last Rites over with as soon as possible, but also seemed to want to see Carlos- Jay told her that they’d been his henchmen of sorts- so he was no help.

Part of her was secretly hoping that Evie would take the decision out of her hands by showing up- she did.

The crowd in the main hall of the hideout was beginning to buzz, and Mal and Jay bolted to the front door. Evie and Dizzy seemed to be carrying something in between them in the distance. Mal couldn’t quite make out what it was, but the fear that it was another corpse threatened to choke her. Jay seemed to have the same fear, face pale, and both ran over to help.

As it turned out, Evie and Dizzy were carrying a mattress full of flowers and Carlos- and if it hadn’t been for the stuttering rise and fall of his chest, Mal would have thought he _was_ dead. His arm certainly was; it looked like something from one of the zombie movies she’d seen in Auradon.

Jay and Mal took the mattress and carried it the rest of the way into the warehouse. She flared her eyes brightly, and everyone else took the hint to get out of their way. When they reached the medical corner, they carefully set the mattress down and turned to Evie for an explanation.

But Evie looked _exhausted._ Her eyes were dull, shoulders down, and skin grey. She hadn’t been getting much sleep lately, and apparently the stress of finding Carlos and carrying him all the way back had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. Casting another look down at the injured boy, Mal made an executive decision. “Evie, go to sleep.”

“I can’t,” Evie protested. “I have to deal with Carlos’s arm, and we haven’t done the Last Rites for Jace yet- his body’s just lying outside, Mal- and-”

“Go to sleep,” Mal repeated. “Just for a while. We’ll go out and do the Last Rites, and you can stay here and rest. Carlos is sleeping now; you can deal with his arm later. I don’t even know what you plan to do for it, but you’re not going to do it well if you doze off halfway through.”

Evie made another attempt to protest, but Mal could tell she was going to give in soon; she was _really_ tired. “The infection in his arm could spread.”

“Just two hours. Two hours, and I’ll wake you up, and you can do whatever you need to with Carlos,” Mal compromised.

“Fine.” Evie’s tone was defeated, but her eyes were grateful. “Two hours. Harry, I’m really sorry I can’t go to the Last Rites.”

Mal spun around and was surprised to find the Badun boy a few feet away, standing stock-still and staring at Carlos. “It’s fine,” he muttered. His eyes never left the de Vil’s face. “You never really knew him that well, anyway.” The last part seemed almost more directed at himself than Evie, but she nodded and shuffled off anyway.

Taking the opportunity to examine her friend herself, Mal didn’t like what she saw, but was relieved it wasn’t worse. The left arm was grotesque; Evie would have to be a miracle worker to save it, but she seemed to know what she was doing. The right leg was in a splint, but didn’t look too bad. Those were the two things that stuck out most- the rest of him was covered in cuts and bruises, but nothing irreparable. Overall, there was a chance he might even be fine soon enough, if Evie’s plan for his arm worked.

Jay didn’t seem to have reached the same conclusion, jaw clenched and shoulders shaking slightly. Suddenly, Mal didn’t want to think about it anymore.

“It’s time to go,” she said firmly. She was using her Leader Voice now, and even Harry looked up at her. “Jay, I’m going to need you to carry the body.”

Jay nodded, but Harry jumped up. “I’m going to help! He was _my_ cousin.”

“That’s fine,” Mal told him. “Just don’t slow us down.” Without another word, she headed into to the main hall, and they followed behind her.

Everyone knew what was happening without it needing to be explained. They’d been waiting, after all. When they got outside, Jay moved to pick up Jace’s body, but Harry stopped him. “I’ll do it,” he said. Jay looked at him doubtfully, but Harry snarled. “I said, _I’ll do it._ ”

Putting his hands up in mock surrender, Jay backed away. Harry struggled to pick up his cousin, and the more he touched the body the wetter his eyes became. He eventually managed to get Jace on his back, breathing hard- in grief or effort, Mal couldn’t tell.

She’d told him not to slow them down, but she didn’t have the heart to take this from him. Another lingering sign of Auradon softness.

Fortunately, the Edge wasn’t far, because Harry barely managed to carry the body all the way as it was. The Edge was pretty much exactly what it sounded like. At a certain point at the Eastern side of the Isle, the land stopped and was replaced by, well, nothing. There was a drop of a couple of feet to the ocean below; not enough to do any damage, but enough that it wasn’t easy to get back out, especially before sharks or alligators caught scent of you. Someone, at some point, had tied a rope to the edge to make climbing out possible. That was the plan on the rare occasions when someone woke up from the drop, and someone else cared enough to save them.

Mal stopped a few feet away from the Edge, and the rest of the Anti-Hero Club slowed to a stop behind her, with one exception. Harry was still lugging his cousin closer, legs shaking. Jay had offered to help, but Harry had brushed him off angrily. Just a foot away from the cliff, Harry finally stopped, and dropped Jace on the ground, falling down beside him in exhaustion.

He stayed there for a moment, and Mal turned away to let him have a moment in peace. Most of the group had their eyes trained on the ground, and if some of them were wetter than usual, she pretended not to notice. A girl near the back had her head turned up, lips moving silently, in what Mal assumed was prayer- a Frollo, then.

Finally, a noise from behind indicated that Harry was getting up. Mal turned to face him again, trying to walk the fine line between impartial and insensitive. “Do it.”

Nodding silently, Harry bent over and rolled Jace’s body off the side, flinching when he heard it hit the water. He dropped to his knees, looking hopefully down at the water, as if he was still hoping Jace would wake up. Of course, nothing happened, and after a solid minute of waiting, he sat back. He didn’t move to get up again.

Calling out to him slightly, Mal said, “You can stay here as long as you want, but you know it’s not the safest place to be. We’re going to head back to the warehouse.”

She forced herself to start walking away then. The part of her that had softened beyond repair longed to try to comfort him, to say whatever Ben might have, but she stamped it down. That sentimentality had no place here.

Mal refused to look back, so she had no way of knowing whether or not he was following her, but she knew everyone else was. She could feel Jay less than a foot behind her- itching to hurry back to the warehouse and punch something, but knowing that a leader had to be the one to walk at the front of a pack.

The next hour and a half wasn’t particularly eventful. As soon as they reached the hideout, Jay disappeared to the work-out room, and Mal sent everyone else down to join him while she tried to figure out anything that might give them an advantage come Barge Day. She hadn’t thought of anything they hadn’t already used in the past by the time she was supposed to wake Evie.

There was always the option of letting her sleep longer, but then Evie wouldn’t be willing to make a deal like that in the future. Besides, Mal really was worried about Carlos’s arm; it looked really, really bad, and the longer they waited, the harder it would be for Evie to save it.

She walked over to Evie’s bed and shook her lightly. Gasping, Evie bolted up. “What? What happened? Is everyone okay?”

“Yes! Everyone’s fine. Calm down. You told me to wake you up, remember?”

Evie nodded, getting her breathing under control. “Right. Sorry. I’m uh- Carlos’s arm.” She pushed herself up, taking a second to wake herself entirely. She rolled her neck and waved her fingers, shaking herself a little. Seemingly satisfied, she headed over to the medical corner. Dizzy was sitting there, waiting to be told what to do. She’d put away the opium poppies on the bed, and started looking for something when Evie told her to.

Evie lay a tray on a shelf by a table, which Dizzy loaded up with a knife, a roll of bandages, a needle, sutures, a syringe, and a single opium bud. None of those supplies were easy to come by, and Mal couldn’t imagine what any of them could have to do with saving Carlos’s arm. Still, she didn’t interfere, because Evie knew best.

The strip of cloth came untied with a bit of effort, and Mal bit her tongue when she saw what was underneath. It had left a dark red line- the entire arm underneath it was dead, and the skin above it was… _not._ Grabbing a marker off the shelf, she drew a line above the mark, to Mal’s surprise.

Dizzy’s face was turning green, and Evie apparently decided to cut her some slack. “Dizzy, go get me some alcohol- moonshine, if you can.” Dizzy nodded and hurried off.

As soon as she was out of sight, Evie picked up the syringe. Someone- probably Dizzy- had filled it with opium when Mal hadn’t been looking, and Evie fiddled slightly with Carlos’s shoulder before apparently finding a vein to stick the syringe into. It must not have been very hard to find, given how pale Carlos was.

But then Mal really lost track of what was happening, because Evie picked up the knife and started carving into Carlos’s _good_ skin, peeling back little flaps of it.

“Evie, what the fuck are you doing?” She asked, alarmed.

Evie didn't stop to look at her. “He's going to need healthy skin over the stump.”

“What stump? What the hell?”

Now she paused briefly, glancing over her shoulder at Mal. “When I amputate his arm. What did you think I was doing?”

The calm tone of voice she used sent a shudder down Mal's spine. Somehow, when Evie had said she would deal with Carlos’s arm it had never occurred to Mal that she would cut it off. That didn’t happen on the Isle, ever- someone with only one arm was someone with half as many fists, half as much of a chance in a fight. Not to mention that medical care wasn’t exactly top-notch.

“You can’t do that. Evie, you’re not a doctor, you can’t _do that._ ”

“But I’m the next best thing, so we’re all going to have to deal with that.”

Then the knife was going down and through the muscle and Mal had to leave before she threw up.

She wasn’t built for this anymore.

\----

It had been two days since Jace had been killed and Carlos found, and Jay could barely stop himself from physically crawling up the walls like some sort of spider/man hybrid.

Everything had seemed to build up all at once that day, which had made the excruciating uneventfulness of the following two days almost unbearable. Evie had kept Carlos- now down an arm- drugged up and was just now going to let him wake up.

Jay had planned to camp out in the med area until he did, but Evie had decidedly put an end to that. Instead, Mal had sent Jay down to train with whoever would have him. Fortunately, enough people had as much pent-up energy as Jay to fill the training room.

Right now, he was going head to head with his favorite opponent, Big Murph. Murph was, as his name suggested, the biggest guy they had on the crew, but also one of the most hesitant. He’d been part of Harriet Hook’s crew who’d run away and defected when they were taken over by Uma; he had no love for the pirate queen, but he wasn’t thrilled at the idea of fighting his old crew. Still, he’d taken a liking to the idea of turning ‘good,’ so here he was.

Here he was, catching a fist in his bad eye. Unphased, he went to sweep Jay’s legs out from under him- and found empty air. But then Jay jumped him, which as it turned out, was incredibly stupid. Once he’d done that, Big Murph’s extra mass gave him a _huge_ advantage, and he instantly threw himself onto the ground, landing on Jay. When he pushed himself up slightly, resting his weight to prevent the other boy from getting up, Jay managed to get in a punch to the throat.

That second of surprise gave him the chance to follow it up with a knee to the groin, which had Big Murph rolling over onto the floor. Jumping onto his feet, Jay put a foot on Murph’s neck, grinning down at him triumphantly- until he found himself flying face-first onto the ground, Big Murph’s hands on his leg.

The fight continued that way for a while, one of many. A few feet away, Hermie Bing’s staff collided with Yzla’s sword. Eddie slammed his own staff into Diego de Vil’s gut as Jay’s cousin Jade blocked a roundhouse kick to the face. Just about the only ones not fighting were Carlos and Deux (too injured), Evie and Mal (too busy), and Claudine, but she was shooting arrows into the homemade bullseye, so she got a pass.

Eventually, Jay got the upper hand long enough to win- just like he always did. It wasn’t always easy, but he was a good fighter. Everyone here was- or almost everyone-, but he was the best. Big enough to be strong, yet still small enough to be agile. Fast, forceful, and resourceful, as he liked to think.  

Big Murph pushed himself up off the floor, laughing lightly. “Nicely done, dude. I’ll get you next time, though.”

“Ha! I’d like to see you try,” Jay ribbed.

Big Murph grinned at him before heading off to find something to drink. Still itching for a fight, Jay turned to see who else was finishing up- just in time to catch the staff Diego was about to slam him with. It stung like a bitch, and forced Jay to take a step back, but it did save his face.

Diego gave a feral smile, pulling the staff back and making a move for Jay’s legs. The dance was on.

They were only a couple of minutes in when they got interrupted by the sound of a door bursting open. “He’s up.”

The words were barely out of Evie’s mouth before she was getting pushed against the door frame by her overeager friend and his fight partner. She followed them up to the med station, calling out, “He’s going to be drowsy, don’t overwhelm him!”

But Jay wasn’t listening. Carlos was slightly propped up in his bed- not quite sitting, but not lying down either. He turned at the sound of their arrival, blinking rapidly and unevenly. Jay let himself down next to the boy, with Diego sitting on the other side of the mattress.

It took a minute, but eventually Carlos’s eyes managed to fully focus on him, and he smiled- Carlos did, that is, though it was true of Jay, too. “How ya doing, bud?” he asked.

Carlos opened his mouth, but instead of saying anything pouted and shrugged slightly, wincing. The motion tilted him to the side, and he looked in surprise at the shoulder that was suddenly much lighter than it had been.

Jay saw Diego’s mouth tighten, and felt his own do the same. Carlos was staring at the space his arm should have been, waving the tiny stump around a little. His face was scrunched up in concentration, and he was blinking fast again, as if he didn’t quite understand what he was- or rather, wasn’t- seeing.

He sent a questioning look up at his cousin, who grimaced. “Your arm got cut off,” he said bluntly. “It was dead so we just uh… took it off.” Carlos’s face remained scrunched for a moment before smoothing out, and he nodded. Jay shot a look back at Evie, lingering a couple of feet away. She was worrying her lip, looking nervously at her patient, as if she’d hoped he wouldn’t notice he was down an arm.

Jay decided to change the subject. Carlos seemed to be having a hard time thinking, so Jay would do it for him. “So, you’ve been out for a while, huh? You missed a lot.”

Carlos stared at him for a moment, like he was trying to figure out what had just been said, and then nodded again.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but we’ve been having problems with Uma’s crew. Lots of fighting going on, but most of it is on purpose. Our borders aren’t close enough for trouble there. It’s not too serious, anyway- or it wasn’t. Deux got sliced up a bit, but he’s fine. We were going to have a peace- and I’ll go into Mal’s decision-making later- but then Uma’s crew up and ki-” Jay cut himself off, remembering that Carlos had known Jace. The two of them had never been close, but now was maybe not the best time to bring up what had happened. Diego frantically shaking his head confirmed Jay’s line of thinking.

Anyway, Carlos seemed half-asleep already, which would have been less weird if he hadn’t been dozing for two entire days already. Evie stepped in then, voice gentle. “I think we should probably let Carlos get some more sleep.”

“He only just woke up!” Diego protested.

Evie glared at him. “Getting drugged makes people sleepy sometimes, asshole. I’ve already lowered the dose a lot, so he should be less groggy next time he wakes up. I’m not totally sure how much is the concussion and how much is the drugs, but I guess we’ll find out eventually.”

“Still the concussion? It’s been days since he got back,” Jay said.

“Which is sometimes enough to sleep it off… if there isn’t brain damage,” Evie responded testily, shifting on her feet. Brain damage?

“Brain damage?” Diego’s voice echoed Jay’s thoughts, and for a second Jay thought he’d spoken himself.

But Evie looked over him and at the older de Vil when she answered. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not, and it’s just the drugs. I don’t know. I’m not a doctor.”

“I’m staying here,” Jay declared.

Evie rolled her eyes. “No, you’re not, dumbass. It’s a waste of your time and, quite frankly, you’ll get in my way. Go beat people up downstairs again.”

Jay bristled, but a voice in the back of his head reminded him that he was here under her and Mal’s good graces, and he looked away. “Fine.” He got up and started walking off, hearing a pair of lighter footsteps behind him- Diego.

“Wait. Jay-” Evie called, cutting herself off. He stopped and looked at her questioningly, trying to hide his irritation. Diego sped up on his way out, hoping not to get caught up in whatever followed. But nothing happened. “Uh, nothing,” Evie hesitated. “I’ll call you when he’s up again. Who knows, maybe he’ll even call you himself.”

“Really?”

Evie looked like she regretted saying anything. “Maybe.”

And then there was nothing more to say, so Jay headed on to the training room, where he barely managed to catch a staff Diego tossed him. The other boy was shifting side to side, ready for a fight.

So Jay gave him one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for this chapter to also end on Jay's POV with Diego, that's just a coincidence. Will probably not be a recurring pattern.
> 
> Anyway, the medical stuff is not my field of expertise bc I'm Really Not A Doctor and have no medical education, so I just did all my research on Google. Carlos has: a damaged sciatic nerve in his right leg, and had dry gangrene caused by acute limb ischemia in his left arm. There's a specific type of aphasia I'm going for, too, but that's not that big in this chapter anyway. 
> 
> If anyone knows anything about medicine who wants to correct me on something, feel free, and any other constructive criticism or suggestions are welcome! I really appreciate every comment, and any questions (or if someone is kind enough to be willing to beta) can be asked @ obifankenobi.tumblr.com  
> Again, if you particularly do or don't like something, please tell me, bc I can't make it better if I don't know. Sorry if I sound needy, I just want this fic to be as good as I can get it. Anyway, have a nice day :)


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